


Chained

by Akarri



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blackmail, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mild torture, Murder, Paranoia, Parental Roy Mustang, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-06-27 21:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 199,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akarri/pseuds/Akarri
Summary: Edward Elric, The Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People, has been accused of murder and was forced into hiding. There have been several reported sightings of him across the city, as he seems to be searching for something. Now it's up to Colonel Mustang to figure out the truth before the military catches on.





	1. Chapter 1

"I want you to kill someone."

The man looked down on him, casting a sinister shadow over his figure. His face was shaded by the harsh lights hitting his back, but his amused eyes and his wide grin gleamed victoriously.

Edward held his breath as his eyes hesitantly wavered between the man's daunting visage and the murder weapon held out before him. Gingerly, he placed his flesh hand on the cold material and flinched as an unforgiving shiver ran down his spine. His fingers curled around the grip and loosely held it up before himself. The gun felt unnatural in his hands as Ed was suddenly reminded of just how young he was. He was far too young to hold such a tool in his hands, and far too young to be contemplating the offer that was presented to him.

Alphonse called out to him from the other side of the room; his young, innocent voice swallowed by distress. Edward selfishly blocked his words out, far too ashamed of himself to look his brother in those soulfire eyes.

Instead, his gaze lowered to the ground and the weapon fell to his side. He spoke quietly, not wanting his dear brother to overhear him making a deal with the devil.

"... Alright."

* * *

The dull tapping of the window as rain battered against its smooth glass, the never ending ticking of the clock, someone's pen rhythmically hitting the edge of a wooden desk, fingers drumming against the side of a chair, and the familiar sound of shuffling paper.

Despite the fact that not a single word had been shared in what felt like hours, the office seemed particularly noisy. All of that sound in the otherwise silent room effectively kept Colonel Mustang from successfully reading past the first few paragraphs of the report in his hands. His eyes read those words over, and over, and over again, but the knowledge they held failed to reach him. One thing or another persistently distracted him just when he began to think that he could make it half way down the page.

Whether is was a burst of thunder or a crumpled up piece of paper flying across the room and into the trashcan,  _something_ would draw his thoughts off track. Something, something, something- there was always  _something_ in his way.

And he just couldn't take it anymore.

The file fell to the cluttered surface of his desk and Roy abruptly stood up. The chair legs screeched against the floor, causing five pairs of eyes to look up at him. Without so much as an explanation, the Flame Alchemist rounded his desk and stiffly walked out the door, leaving unspoken questions in his wake. No one would dare say anything, however. It was clear to see just how much their most recent case was bothering the colonel.

He needed to get out of there and breath for a moment. He couldn't think with that damn file staring back at him- taunting him.

Roy considered escaping into the restroom to splash some water on his face, but it was too inconveniently close. Simply as an excuse to walk around, he decided to head down to the cafeteria instead for a drink. He hoped that if he could just get out of that stuffy room and keep his eyes off of printed text for a few minutes, then the answers he was searching for would jump out a him.

He may have gotten away from most of the head-throbbing sounds of his outer office, but the rain had tenaciously followed him. Mustang paused for a moment and allowed his gaze to travel to the row of large windows that lined the corridor. Rain water streamed down, casting strange, blurry shadows across the hall. Surely it was the rain that had mercilessly sucked the energy out of him. It was the rain's fault that he couldn't make any progress on the case that plagued his mind... It was so easy to blame the weather.

The man continued down the wide corridor with a sigh, paying no mind to the few uniformed men and women who passed by as he warily rubbed his eyes. As he trudged down the grand staircase, he suppressed a yawn, reminding himself to at least  _try_ to keep up appearances.

The colonel hadn't been able to get as much sleep as he would prefer either, since he heard the news:

That Edward Elric is a prime suspect for murder.

It was ridiculous and impossible.

If anyone truly understood the value of life, it was Fullmetal- and everyone knew it. Roy would have liked to have a chat with whoever first suggested such an absurd notion and list the many reason as to why they were wrong.

Apparently, someone resembling Fullmetal was seen running from the crime scene. But besides that, there was no evidence to pin him- or anyone- to the murder. All they needed from Edward was his alibi. Simple.

At least, it  _should_  have been simple, but no one has been able to get hold of the kid or his brother since the murder, three days ago. Which was why Roy was tasked with bringing them in for questioning.

Edward had officially been classified as Missing in Action. Some have wanted to blame him for desertion or treason, but for all they knew, he could have been captured or worse.

It was entirely possible that whoever thought they saw the blond that night was mistaken, and the Elrics had gone off somewhere without informing the colonel. He certainly hoped that was the case, anyway. Mustang knew for a fact that Fullmetal wasn't responsible for the man's death, but that didn't necessarily mean he wasn't involved. The teenager did have a way for getting sucked into trouble...

Roy pushed open the double doors and stepped into the cafeteria. It wasn't very crowded, considering it was three in the afternoon, but a few still lingered by the tables. Somehow, everyone's favorite part of the building had become just as gloomy as the rest of it.

He made a B-line for the water cooler that was pressed up against one of the walls and quickly got himself a cup. With an elbow propped on top of the jug, Mustang downed the water in seconds, feeling almost refreshed by the tasteless liquid, then proceeded to fill the cup again.

"Hey Roy! What's up?"

An irritated groan formed in his throat as the colonel looked up from his musing to see Maes approaching him with a steaming mug in is hand.

"What do you want, Hughes?"

"Aw, that's no way to greet a friend," the lieutenant colonel pouted and took a quick sip of his coffee. "Is the rain getting the Flame Alchemist down?"

"You know very well what's  _getting me down_ ," Roy huffed, inwardly hoping that closing his eyes was somehow enough to block the other man out. Then again, he might as well take the opportunity to learn more about the case, if possible. "Have you dug up anything new?"

Hughes' lively grin smoothly dissolved into a sad smile. "Nope. We identified the victim, the weapon, cause of death, but the rain washed away most of the evidence. As of now, our only lead is Edward and, well, he's still missing."

"Though so," Roy muttered, absentmindedly watching the steam rise and dissipate from the coffee mug in Maes' hand. Since he was drinking caffeine at such an hour, he probably planned on staying late. "It just doesn't make any sense... No one has seen a blond kid running around in a red coat with a seven foot tall suit of armor in the past three days? Not to mention that Fullmetal has made quite the name for himself around Central," Mustang went on, running a hand through his hair. They got stuck at a dead end almost immediately after the case began.

All Hughes could offer his friend was a small, sympathetic shrug. He watched the colonel as if he was debating between saying something or not. Roy quickly noticed his expression and raised an eyebrow, prompting him to speak.

Maes pursed his lip for a second. "Listen, Roy; I know you're convinced that Ed didn't do it, but-"

"Don't-" Mustang flatly cut in, "-try telling me that Fullmetal actually murdered someone." He may be impulsive and hotheaded, but Edward Elric was no murderer. There wasn't a force on this world strong enough to make Ed freely kill a person. He would believe that wholeheartedly until Edward personally corrected him; which simply wasn't going to happen.

"I wasn't going to say that," Maes replied easily, holding a hand up innocently. "I'm just saying... don't let that blind you."

Roy considered his friend for a moment before his eyes wordlessly dropped to the cup of water that was loosely held in his hand.

He knew Maes was right, as he often was. He had to look at the situation from all angles, even if he personally believed some of those angles to be dead wrong. But when it came to Edward, nothing was as simple as it first appeared. There was much more to the situation than any of them knew. To learn the truth, he had to be open minded.

"You look like you could use a cup of coffee," Hughes suggested lightheartedly.

Roy looked up at him, allowing a small, brittle smile. "That sounds like a good idea."

It looked like he'd be staying late too.

* * *

The air in the dingy inn was humid and sticky as the storm outside relentlessly continued. The faulty air conditional rumbled and clanked, struggling to do its job properly as its strain increased with every passing minute.

The shades were tightly drawn closed, the door was locked with the dresser pushed to block it, and the room's only occupant was currently buried in blankets on the old, lumpy bed.

Edward's bloodshot eyes snapped open, his hands clutching the sheets and threatening to rip holes into the fabric. He forced himself to sit up, breathing heavily and sporadically, staring at nothing as he tried to calm himself before he started to feel sick.

He didn't bother to look at the clock, but he was fairly certain that it was a few hours past noon. Of course, the closed blinds and the dark clouds behind them made it nearly impossible to know for sure. Edward's sleeping schedule was next to nonexistent at that point. He would fall asleep for a few hours at most, a few minutes at least, but would wake up in a panic every time either way. He didn't want to do anything besides sleep, in hopes of escaping the harsh reality, but doing so just threw it straight back in his face. There was really no way to win.

A hand rose to his chest, feeling the heavy beat of his overworked heart.

He needed to get a grip.

But the images appeared every time he closed his eyes. The fear, the rain, the blood... He couldn't escape it. He couldn't escape what happened that night, no matter how long he holed himself up in that dirty inn room.

Edward's arms slowly moved to hug himself to keep them from shaking. He felt his chest tighten against the thoughts that persistently tormented him.

He couldn't tell anyone about what happened. He just had to let it blow over... No one could know. He couldn't tell Alphonse, or Winry, or Mustang or the rest of the team- no one. They would never forgive him if they found out. That thought alone was enough to nauseate him. How could he continue living around them as if nothing happened? To make things worse, what if they found out? What if they already knew!? He half expected the military police to show up and blow the door down every time he found himself watching it.

Why couldn't he go more than a few minutes without falling right back into the same train of thought? Ed had been rooted in that room for three days straight, only leaving briefly a few times for food, which he didn't even want to eat in the first place. But after so much time, he still couldn't get over what happened.

Of course not. It would be terrible if he  _had_  gotten over it quickly. He deserved to sit there alone and suffer. He deserved to be isolated from everyone he cared about.

Thunder roared outside as Edward pushed himself against the headboard, bringing his legs up to his body so he could rest his arms on his knees.

How could everything spiral so far out of control so quickly?

The young alchemist dropped his head into his folded arms, allowing his sleeves to soak up any moisture that formed on his forehead or in the corners of his eyes.

However, as soon as he closed his eyes, Ed immediately found himself standing in an alleyway, looking down at his stained red hands. Blood dripped down the crevices in the brick walls and pooled around the soles of his shoes. Rain was pelting the earth, but it did nothing to dispense the red liquid. It was everywhere. He was breathing it in, choking on it, suffocating on it. There was too much of it. Too much-

Edward gasped sharply, throwing his head up against the headboard with a  _thud_. Ignoring the new pain in the back of his head, the teenager scrambled out of the tangle of blankets in a frantic rush. Once he was free, he staggered into the bathroom to throw up all the contents in his stomach.

Again.


	2. Chapter 2

_The warehouse district was deserted at that time of night. It was the perfect place to hold a hostage._

_Edward stopped in his tracks as he approached one of the buildings and looked down at the note in his hand. Glancing up at the building which was identified by the corresponding number, he stuffed the small piece of paper into his pocket with an annoyed groan and proceeded forward._

_His shoes shuffled through the loose dirt as he lightly massaged his right shoulder with his other hand. This was possibly the worst night for Al to get kidnapped. The ache in his automail ports told him that a storm was coming- judging by the strength of the headache that recently surfaced, it was going to be a big one._

_As much as he wanted to huddle up indoors and continue his research, his brother needed him to heroically save the day._

_The Elric brothers had dedicated the day to research as they waited for another sighting of the Philosopher's Stone to reach Mustang's desk. While Edward was taking notes, Alphonse had decided to give some of the books they had already finished back to the library before they became overdue. After several hours had passed without Al returning to the room, Ed had decided to go looking for him, until he found a note on the door, saying that someone had somehow captured the suit of armor. Ed was to meet in a specific warehouse to work out a deal._

_It wasn't the first time people had tried to take advantage of the Elrics, but it was surprising to see someone go after Al instead of Ed, considering he appeared much more intimating. While his younger brother did tend to have very good street-smarts, tricking him was certainly no impossible task._

_But that's why there were two of them. The Fullmetal Alchemist and his iron brother; partners in crime, so to speak- they were inseparable._

_Usually, it was Alphonse who had to bail Edward out of difficult situations. But for once, it was the other way around. Being able to pay his brother back was probably the only upside to the entire thing._

_Edward placed a hand on the large sliding door and experimentally pulled at the handle, not surprised when it opened with a rusty screech. He stepped inside and scanned the storage building, taking in the ominous lighting and atmosphere._

_There was a vast collection of wooden crates stacked up against the far wall and several shelves holding cardboard boxes near the door, but the center of the warehouse was empty. Only a small amount of lights were actually turned on and functioning, casting uneven shadows throughout the space as they flickered. There appeared to be a catwalk of sorts overhead, but it was trapped in shadows and easily overlooked._

_A lone man was pacing back and fourth, seemingly deep in thought. His eyes were trained on the ground and his hands were clasped behind his back. He looked up and noticed Ed before the blond could take more than a few steps inside, and immediately brightened._

_"Ah, Edward Elric! It's a pleasure to meet you," the stranger began, smiling warmly. "It was so kind of you to come alone, as I asked."_

_The Fullmetal Alchemist took a few more tentative steps towards him, then paused once there was a large, comfortable gap, allowing him to get a better look at the guy._

_He appeared to be in his 40's and was wearing a plain button up shirt with a loose tie hung around his neck. He had short brown hair and a square jaw and an overall friendly appearance with bright, lively brown eyes. Frankly, he looked like an average office worker; not really what Ed was expecting from Al's kidnapper._

_Not that he cared._

_"Cut the pleasantries. What did you do with Al?" Ed snapped as his eyes searched each corner and niche of the warehouse just in case he missed anything._

_"Your brother is just fine, don't worry. I have no interest in harming either of you. So I kindly ask that you don't force my hand." He spoke so pleasantly, that Edward almost missed the obvious threat. "I just want you to do something for me, Edward. After that, I'll let him go."_

_Ed scoffed spitefully. "I'm not about to do anything for a kidnapper like you! Either you tell me where he is, or else I'll beat the crap out of you until you talk," he announced, raising a clenched fist for emphasis._

_The stranger didn't seem fazed by Edward's outburst in the slightest. He simply returned his glare with a calmed smile. "But you see, Edward; I hold all the cards. I have Alphonse, I have you, and I even know you to keep you at bay." The blond opened his mouth to demand an elaboration, but the man continued before he could get the words out. "I was able to spend a few hours with your brother. After talking to him for a bit, I noticed that he seems to have a fairly good reason for asking me to stay away from the blood seal on the inside of his armor. Wouldn't you agree?"_

_Edward narrowed his eyes as his fists tightened at his sides. He should have figured that the kidnapper would eventually notice that Al was hollow... That bastard was threatening to mess with the seal unless he cooperated._

_An eerie silence stretched on for a moment, only interrupted by a boom of thunder, far in the distance._

_"Who are you, anyway?" Ed finally asked with a deep frown, realizing that he had to take the stranger seriously._

_"Hmm... You may call me Riece."_

_Edward raised an eyebrow questioningly. That was probably the least-threatening name he could have gone with."Got a last name? And is that even your real name?"_

_Riece chuckled as if he found the entire thing mildly amusing. "You're accusing me of being a liar now? Tsk, tsk," he mused, ignoring the alchemist's question. "So how about it, Edward? Will you listen to my request?"_

_The teenager's eye twitched from annoyance. If he was personally being threatened, he would have impulsively attacked the older man by then. But Al's safety was at stake, so it was up to Edward to make the right choices to guarantee his freedom. Sadly, that wasn't exactly his forte._

_"Not until I see Alphonse."_

_Riece considered him for a moment, then shrugged idly. "As you wish," he sung and wandered over to the wall of wooden crates. He stopped at one box in particular and moved out of the way so Edward could watch as he pulled a loose nail out of one of the corners. The four sides of the crate lost all stability at once and fell to the ground, bringing the top with them. Inside, was Alphonse._

_Or what was left of him._

_The lower halves of his legs, along with his arms had been completely removed, leaving just the body, head and thighs, which were left just to keep him from falling over._

_"Al!" Edward yelled, taking several steps closer, wary of getting too close to Riece. "Are you alright?" How dare that bastard stick his brother in a box, of all places?! Did he think he was being clever or funny? Alphonse wasn't just some thing to store in a warehouse!_

_"I'm fine," the suit of armor sighed. "Sorry about this, Brother; he tricked me! He said he needed help finding his lost daughter..."_

_Edward glared at the man, who appeared to be very unapologetic. No matter how he tried to defend himself, he really was a liar- but a liar who had his hand dangerously close to Al's blood seal._

_"Alright, shit-head, let's cut to the chase," Edward growled. "What do you want? Money? Power? Information? I'll tell you right now that I can't give you any of that."_

_"I wouldn't waste your time for greed, Edward. I simply want you to do something for me. It's a simple task, really." The unspoken question consumed the air that tightened with every passing second as a daunting smile twisted onto his expression._

_"I want you to kill someone."_

* * *

Edward stared blankly at the bare wall, absentmindedly listening to the rhythmic drum of rain falling against the window.

After waking up from a particularly alarming nightmare, he had accidentally fallen off the side of the bed and lacked the will to get back up. One of the blankets followed him down, so he was completely content with curling up on the ground.

He had repeated the events that lead up to  _that night_  over and over again for no specific reason. He didn't want to, but the memories continuously flooded his mind for hours on end. No matter how often he tried to change his thoughts to anything more pleasant, they always returned.

It was torture.

Pure, inescapable torture.

Ed wanted nothing more than to get up and continue on as he always did, as if none of it ever happened. But that was impossible, because that bastard- Riece, as he called himself- had hidden Alphonse away somewhere, leaving the older Elric no way to find him. Although, he had certainly tried.

Edward stiffly rolled onto his back, gazing up to the window above his head. Through the blinds, he could see that it was pitch black outside but the rain was beginning to lighten up.

He sighed exasperatedly and sluggishly rubbed his eyes.

A fist rasped against the door, causing the teenager to jump and roll onto his knees like a skittish cat. He froze as his head did somersaults to catch up with his sudden movement, eyes focusing in on the door, which was still, thankfully, blocked by the dresser.

"Uh, kid?" an elderly voice called from behind. Edward instantly recognized the innkeeper, but did not move to let her in. "Are you there?"

Ed opened his mouth to hastily answer, but coughed instead when his voice didn't work properly right away. "Yeah, I'm here." The last thing he wanted was for her to unlock the door to see that he had barricaded it. Too many questions...

"Are you alright? I haven't seen you in quite a while now."

"I'm fine," he chocked out tersely, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

There was a small, hesitant pause.

"... Should I call a doctor? You don't sound too good."

"No, I'm fine, really," the alchemist insisted. "In fact, uh, I'll be heading out into town tomorrow." He wasn't entirely sure where that idea came from, but it should at least convince the innkeeper that he wasn't bedridden.

"If you say so," she sighed. "Goodnight, then." Edward swiftly returned the gesture and tentatively waited to hear her footsteps disappear down the hall.

Once she had gone, Edward slouched against the side of the bed and exhaled deeply.

This was exhausting.

He was so tired of lazing around, drowning in self-pitting. It was about time he got up and actually  _did_  something.

His automail hand tightened around the draping sheet and pulled himself up to his feet, then made his way to the bathroom. Without bothering to flip the lights on, he hunched over the sink and splashed water onto his face. Edward's hands lowered and gripped the edges of the counter as he dared to look at his reflection in the dark mirror.

He looked... tired.

His hair had fallen out of its' braid many days ago and hung limply around his shoulders. His eyes were redder than usual and pale, gray circles were beginning to form underneath them as well.

Strange; he thought he was getting enough sleep, but he supposed that he really hadn't gotten any rest in several days.

"Alright, Elric; time to shape up," he whispered to himself.

He couldn't afford to wait for that guy- Riece- to get in touch with him. It was probably all some stupid test... Al was depending on him, so it was his job to hunt him down!

Alright. It was decided. Edward was going to turn the city upside down until he found his brother and absolutely nothing was going to stop him!

Edward pushed himself away from the counter and turned out of the bathroom. He moved for the door and placed his hands on dresser to push it out of the way. However, he glanced over to the window again and remembered that night fallen. Turning to the clock, he then saw that it was almost 10 pm.

...

He'd leave first thing in the morning.

* * *

"Would you like a refill, sir?" A young, chirpy waitress asked, holding a steaming pot of coffee in her hands.

"Please." Roy gestured to his nearly-empty mug with a curt nod of the head. As she poured the beverage, his eyes fell back down to his newspaper, briefly leaving again only to thank her.

If the paper's weather report was to be believed, then the storm clouds would continue to linger for many days to come.

It was thankfully not raining that Saturday morning, allowing Roy to sit at one of the outdoor tables in front of the small corner cafe. The air smelled of moisture and a cool breeze swept through the area. The sky was still thick with rolling gray clouds, and it would most likely continue pouring later in the day, but Roy decided to enjoy the fresh air for as long as he could. As soon as water started falling again, he would immediately cage himself back indoors.

Of course, that's what he wanted to do. But he planned to spend the entirety of the weekend by working; if that meant that he would have to drive all around town in search of the illusive Edward Elric, then he would. Even if it was raining.

He had a few choice words for that kid.

While he was honestly worried about Fullmetal and whatever situation he had gotten into, Mustang was also certain that Edward's own impulsive nature could easily be to blame. That fiery teenager attracted trouble like a magnet and never seemed too concerned about the consequences.

If Roy had to guess, then he would say that Edward got involved in a complicated chain of events that eventually led to a murder. Seeing as his young subordinate wasn't accustomed to dealing with such a heavy situation, he probably panicked and went underground.

Why didn't Edward ask for help? Surely he knew that Roy would've pulled some strings to get Fullmetal out of it. But no. Instead, he decided to go into hiding. And for what reason? Was he just hoping that they'll find the real murderer on their own? Did Ed not realize how much he could add to the search? If he truly was at the scene of the crime, then he must have seen  _something_  regarding the true killer.

Then again, that stubborn kid could have been looking for the murderer by himself instead. The thought had crossed Roy's mind multiple times within he past few days, becoming more and more convincing each time.

But it still didn't make enough sense. Why?  _Why_  would he choose to do it alone, with only his brother for backup? Everyone knew that Fullmetal liked to take care of things himself, especially if he considered them as  _his problems,_ but he fully understood the extent of the military's great power. Edward Elric would take advantage of all of his available resources if he had to. As long as they weren't against his moral code, anyway.

Perhaps he assumed Roy wouldn't listen and would just lock him up... Ed had to understand that that wasn't even a possibility, right?

There were to many what-ifs and maybes, but absolutely no answers.

Roy took a thankful sip of the black coffee, allowing the steaming liquid to burn his throat and warm his body against the cold morning breeze. Perhaps coffee had the power to quell his slowly rising headache as well.

The colonel turned the page after glancing over the same words multiple times and blinked as Edward stared back at him.

A grayscale photo of the teenager claimed the center of the page, surrounded by walls of text.

_Hero of the People Suspected of Murder_

The same story found a place in every newspaper since the information was released. Roy halfheartedly skimmed over the words in a fruitless hope to find new information.

But of course, it was just the same known facts on repeat.

The Fullmetal Alchemist was reported fleeing from the scene of Victor Tresler's murder on Tuesday at approximately three in the morning. Since then, a wanted ad had been put out and many sightings of him had been reported. However, most were proven to be false and the more promising ones provided nothing worthwhile.

It certainly didn't help that there was absolutely no connection between Fullmetal and Victor Tresler. He was quite wealthy and on the Board of Directors for Bank's Bank. Even to Mustang, his name was only vaguely familiar and it was difficult to discern why anyone would want to kill him. He often ran fundraisers and donated to charities in his free time. His reputation was spotless. It's possible that someone wanted to kill him for money, but if anything, that just made Edward even less likely to be guilty.

Roy couldn't fathom why people could honestly suspect a fifteen year old boy of murder in the first place. Of course, many of the citizens who have heard of Edward's selfless exploits around the city have blamed corrupt politics.

At that point, the colonel couldn't really blame them.

Just as long as people didn't blame a child, Roy didn't care who they blindly pointed fingers at.

"'Scuse me, I'm looking for someone. Have you seen this person before?" A voice appeared besides him, followed by the shuffle of a piece of paper.

Roy repressed a wary sigh, immediately vexed that his musing was put on hold. "Just file a Missing Person Report with the military and-" he paused as he turned to face the person who interrupted his very important thoughts, and immediately began to wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him.

He turned to see two familiar golden eyes looking back at him. It took a moment for Mustang's shocked mind to catch up with itself.

"... Fullmetal?"

Edward Elric was almost unrecognizable as he wore a dark brown rain coat that was a drastic juxtaposition from his usual garb. The hood was thrown over his head, effectively covered the majority of his blond hair. Even his face was different; contrary to the lively teenager he saw less than a week ago, the kid that stood in front of him looked dead tired and on-edge.

Especially considering that it took Edward even longer to recognize who he was looking at.

His eyes widened once it eventually sunk in and he quickly stuffed the paper of what appeared to be a crude drawing into his pocket. "Oh shit," he breathed and took a step back, nearly stumbling into a passing waitress.

"Wait, Fullmetal." Roy began, slowly rising out of his chair as his brain scrambled for the right words. Just minutes ago, he was contemplating exploding on the kid the next time he saw him, but something was clearly wrong with Edward. He figured Ed was avoiding the military in fear of being arrested, but he didn't expect such a reaction upon seeing the colonel- out of uniform, no less.

He was still struggling to grasp the fact that Ed just accidentally walked right up to him.

Edward spun on his heels and sprinted to get as far away from the colonel as possible, maneuvering through the masses of people and cars alike.

Mustang wasn't about to let this opportunity get away from him.

He scrambled out of his seat and tore after the kid, silently swearing to return to the cafe to pay for his drink later. If any of the employees called after him, he was far too distracted to hear them.

It seemed like everyone had chosen to leave their homes at the same time before the rain started up again. The sidewalks were crowded with people, causing Mustang to briefly lose his target, especially since he caught himself accidentally searching for the trademark red coat. A flash of blond caught his attention as he shifted past people and noticed Edward racing again, pulling the brown hood back over his head after it had fallen in his rush.

Ed ducked into a side street, disappearing from view. Roy didn't bother with apologies as he cut people off and swiftly followed.

"Fullmetal!" He yelled as the kid vanished behind another corner. Immediately after, a loud, metallic clang rung through the alley, followed by a wave of spiteful curses. Roy hurried around the corner to see a fallen trashcan, its contents littering the path.

Edward was sprawled on the ground, clutching his right knee. He hastily looked up when Roy appeared and quickly forced himself to his feet, using the brick wall for support. The hood had fallen off, exposing his messy blond hair that wasn't in the usual braid for once.

"Stay back, Mustang," the teenager warned, inching backwards. The fall left him with a limp, but each step was steadier than the last. It was likely nothing more than a bruise.

Roy hesitated, unsure how to approach the situation. Edward was backing into a dead end like a frightened animal, but he did not doubt the young alchemist's ability to escape. One wrong move or word could set the kid off and he would lose his only chance to talk to him.

Roy loosely raised his hands up in surrender to show that he was unarmed. "Calm down, Fullmetal. I just want to talk."

Edward watched him carefully for a moment, then quickly stole a glance behind him before he could fall over something else, undoubtedly noticing the dead end as well. When his eyes fell back on the colonel, Roy was taken aback by the amount of sheer distrust that he was targeted with.

"Save it. I know how it works; you're just trying to stall until your backup comes! But I'm not gonna fall for it," he growled and clapped his hands together.

Roy's mind jumped to think of some way to stop him without sending him into a panic attack.

"I promise-" he spat out quickly. Edward's bloodshot eyes shifted back to him incredulously, knowing that Mustang didn't make promises lightly. "I promise that no one is coming. I swear, I just want to talk."

"... There's nothing I want to say to you."

"Well that's too damn bad, because there's a lot I want to say to you," the colonel huffed, no longer afraid that Edward was going to flee as soon as he did so much as blink the wrong way. He was naturally too curious. The teenager scowled, but Roy took his silence as in invitation to continue.

"First of all, where the hell have you been? I've been looking all over for you for days now! I've been worrying half to death over this murder case, and I swear, you're-"

"-worried?"

"... What?" Roy was just beginning to spill through the entire rant that's been brimming in his mind for so long, that he nearly missed it when Edward echoed him.

"You were worried?" Edward looked at him as if he had suddenly transformed into a dog before his very eyes.

Mustang blinked, nonplussed, forcing his brain to take several steps back. "Yes, Fullmetal- I was worried," he answered in a deadpan manner, not quite understanding why the teen looked to surprised. Why  _wouldn't_ Roy be worried after all that has happened?

Edward looked down, his expression closed, yet a hint of turmoil shown through. "Well... It doesn't matter where I was," he muttered. Roy sighed at the vague answer and squeezed the bridge of his nose as he restrained himself from getting upset. Ed apparently took notice and continued. "You really think I'm gonna tell you just so I could find the MPs waiting at my front door?"

"God, Ed- I just want to make sure that you're not sleeping under a bridge!" The teenager withered slightly under Mustang's irritated outburst, but his defiant expression remained in place. "You can't really blame me... You look terrible."

The kid's frown deepened, but he didn't argue or deny it. "Got anything else to say to me?" He snapped after a moment.

Roy considered him for a moment, mind in tangles. What happened within the past few days that was able to shake Edward up so badly? Why was he acting so strange?

But of course, he couldn't ask him questions like that. He had to be careful with his wording if he was going to get anything out of the young alchemist, seeing as he was already being so difficult as is.

"Yes, actually," the Colonel answered, lowing his arms to his sides. "If you've been in hiding this whole time, what has Alphonse been doing?" He wasn't entirely sure what prompted him to ask, since he already had a rather decent guess. The suit of armor stuck out too much; if Ed was trying to stay hidden, then he wouldn't travel with his brother out in the open. The younger Elric was probably sitting in whatever hole they had been squatting in.

Except that wasn't the impression he got when Edward immediately blanched and flinched from the words as if he was physically struck. "Al..." he breathed, causing a cold pit of uncertainty to settle in Roy's stomach. "Al is... He's... He's not..."

Mustang began to slowly approach Fullmetal, unsure how to voice his growing concern. Something terrible must have happened to cause Edward to react in such a way. Something happened to Alphonse, something happened to Ed, and Roy couldn't stand not knowing what. He  _needed_  to find out what the two boys had gone through the past few days. He needed to regain Edward's trust.

Roy opened his mouth to speak but as he closed the distance between the two of them, Fullmetal's face hardened. He regained control of his composure and returned the colonel's worried stare, yet still managed to look as if the question had actually injured him.

"Al is fine. He's not, uh, with me. But he's alright," Ed forced the words out. "So are you finished yet?"

Roy's eyes closed for a moment in a contemplative silence. It always pained him to see how desperately the blond was trying to hide the truth. Pushing the matter further would only do harm, however.

"I have one last question," he replied, watching the nervous alchemist again. It was best not to press any single question too hard. "Are you alright, Edward?" He asked, not intending his voice to sound as concerned as it did.

His golden eyes widened for a moment, eclipsing his chariness for a short moment. "Of course I am," he supplied, yet they both knew it was a lie. Ed's answer was wary and automatic, but he seemed well aware that he wasn't fooling anyone.

"I don't quite understand what happened, but I want to help," Mustang announced, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

Fullmetal narrowed his eyes warily. "Why bother? Wouldn't it just be easier to arrest me and pull answers out by force?"

"Maybe so," Roy sighed. "But that's not the right way to do it. I'm sure there's a reason as to why you didn't go to the military for help. So I'll trust that you know what you're doing. But you have to trust me too."

Edward scoffed halfheartedly, gaze locked on the ground. Mustang waited patiently for the teenager to collect his thoughts. When Ed finally looked back up at him, he had decided to avoid giving him any answer at all.

"I have a question for you now," he began and continued when Roy nodded, having no choice but to drop his request for the moment. "I'm looking for someone. He goes by Riece and looks kinda like this." Edward pulled out a crumpled up paper from his coat pocket and held it out. Roy carefully closed the gap and accepted the paper, not failing to notice how Ed stepped back again as soon as the paper was out of his hand.

His earlier suspicions were correct; it was a poorly drawn picture of a man who apparently had a square jaw and short brown hair. There wasn't anything particularly noticeable about the face and meant little to nothing to the colonel, besides maybe his strangely bright eyes.

"Ring any bells?" Edward asked, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Sorry to break it to you, Fullmetal; but you're no artist."

"Wow, thanks Colonel. That really helps," he muttered as his voice overflowed with sarcasm.

Roy smirked mirthlessly. "Just based off of the drawing, I don't recognize him," he admitted, handing the worn paper back. "Why are you looking for him anyway? Does he have anything to do with the murder?"

Edward glared at the space between him and the older alchemist. "Something like that."

The Flame Alchemist bit his tongue, keeping himself from pressing the topic further. He had dealt with similar situations before; if he pushed too far, the other person could easily shut down. He never thought he would have to worry about such things around the little hothead, but he wasn't quite the same kid that he had known for years. Not at the moment, anyway. He was clearly in a difficult mindset and there wasn't anything Roy could do about it for the time being.

"Alright. I'll dig around the military records, but I doubt I'll find anything with such little information."

"It's probably not even his real name," Edward muttered, then jumped as something occurred to him. "A-and no one can know about this!" He demanded, pointing a finger at the colonel for good measure. "Not a word about this to anyone, got it?"

Roy tilted his head slightly and smiled thinly. "Don't think that you can start ordering me around now, runt."

Edward's jaw snapped shut as he glowered at the colonel, but the attempted humor was not lost on him. If anything, Roy could have sworn that he saw the tiniest bit of appreciation in those overall irritated eyed. "Shut up, Colonel Bastard. I'm not short."

The corners of Ed's mouth twitched, ghosting a smile, but he quickly swallowed it, returning to his previous serious demeanor.

"I've wasted too much time here. I need to get going," Fullmetal breathed, shifting his weight, watching the colonel carefully to see if he would stay true to his word.

Roy stepped closer to the brick wall and leaned against it with is arms folded, leaving the rest of the alley way wide open. He showed absolutely no interest in keeping the teenager there any longer.

"Go ahead, then." It was still abundantly clear that Edward wanted to get away from the older alchemist. He knew the kid never liked him very much, but there was at least trust between them. He hated that Ed was now so much more cautious around him simply because the military was after him. It was understandable, but still infuriating.

Edward inched around, keeping a wary eye on the dark haired man as he crossed him. Roy could almost feel his nerves radiating off of his small frame in waves.

Once Ed had passed him and was free to move on, Roy cleared his throat, causing the kid to glance back at him one more time.

"I realize that there's more to this case than what meets the eye," Roy began, meeting Edward's nervous gaze. "But when I find out the whole truth, I swear I will do whatever I can to help you, Fullmetal."

Ed didn't knowledge his declaration with a response, or even a nod. Instead, he bit his lip apprehensively and disappeared behind the corner.


	3. Chapter 3

Monday and rain both scored very highly on Roy's list of  _Things That He Loathed_. And today, he got to enjoy both at the same time. As one could imagine, he was absolutely  _ecstatic_.

Colonel Mustang shut the grand door behind him, trapping the rain outside. It did little to block out the noise, however, as the water continued to pelt the walls, roof, windows and the door itself. It was everywhere, and it clearly wasn't going away anytime soon.

He pulled off his black greatcoat and rolled it up, unable to endure being weighted down by the drenched fabric any longer. He stuck it under his arm and marched through Central Headquarters, the route to his office ingrained into his mind. While the coat was not spared, it did save his uniform from the same treatment, thankfully. The base held a strange atmosphere that morning. A dim, early light stretched out from the windows as it always did, but the darkness of the clouds added an extra layer of gray to everything in sight. In addition to the shadows that the rivers of rainwater cast from the windows, it drowned out all color, from the blue uniforms that littered the hallway, to the green Amestrian flags that lined the walls. He idly wondered if it was possible to suffocate on the dull air.

Roy trudged into his office and automatically returned the stream of greetings that were offered to him by his staff. After abandoning the soggy coat on the coat rack, he crossed the office until he reached his desk. Before he could turn around to face the others, his eyes fell on the scenery that was exposed through the window. An ocean of dark clouds obscured his view of the sky and the rain came down so heavily that it looked like a fog had covered the city. It blurred the lines between the gray buildings, somehow creating the illusion that the city was twice its actual size.

Mustang felt something twist inside his gut as he thought about Edward and Alphonse hiding somewhere out there. Ed hadn't given him much to work with when they spoke a few days ago, so for all he knew, those boys really were squatting underneath a bridge or in a cardboard box. His eyes narrowed into a glare as if staring at the view would somehow reveal their location to him. By that point, he had nearly forgotten about the several eyes that watched his back curiously.

A gentle  _clank_ hit his desk, causing Roy to snap out of his musing and pivot around in curiosity. A fresh, steaming cup of coffee had been placed on the wooden surface and Hawkeye had her back turned to him as she returned to her own desk. Leave it to Hawkeye to always be one step ahead of everything. He felt a thin smile tug at his lips as he took his seat. Taking a grateful taste of the drink, Roy allowed his eyes to scan the room, falling on each of his subordinates. They all looked slightly drained as well.

Except Riza, who appeared to be in top condition as always. While stoic and focused, he caught a gleam of disquiet in her eyes. While the First Lieutenant may have always been incredibly strong and resilient, she still cared for the Elric brothers just like the rest of the team and her concern shown through, to a small degree that only few could notice.

Breda was reclined in his chair, idly rolling a pencil back and forth on his desk. He blinked tiredly back at the colonel, looking just as wary as they all undoubtedly felt. He was never much of a morning person, which certainly wasn't helped by the dark weather creating an illusion that it was three hours earlier than it truly was.

Due to Mustang's silence, Falman had returned his focus to his own work. He was scribbling diligently on a stack of paperwork, glancing up only once when he noticed the colonel watching him. A single look at him was enough to know that he was very unsatisfied with the situation at hand, but had no plans to voice his opinion. After all, they were all thinking the same thing. The warrant officer swiftly proceeded to return his attention to the papers before him, undoubtedly loosing himself in the chore to distract himself.

Meanwhile, Fuery was quite clearly affected by the recent events as well as the lasting downpour. The poor kid had a dreary expression that he was probably not even aware of. He looked torn between directing his attention to his work, or Roy, as if he was expecting him to say something.

"Where's Havoc?" The colonel asked the air in between sips after noticing the blond's absence.

"Late," Hawkeye answered tersely as she straightened the papers on her desk. She didn't bother to look up from her work as she spoke, giving Roy the impression that she wasn't particularly alarmed by the second lieutenant's tardiness. He has been late before and he'll be late again.

The Flame Alchemist made a grunt of acknowledgment as he held the hot cup to his mouth and shifted through the files on his desk. The scolding liquid streamed down his throat, jolting a bit more awareness into him.

He picked out the Victor Tresler Murder case file out and opened it, allowing the papers inside to fan out. His eyes fell over the black text as he began to think he could recite the damn thing from memory if he tried. Roy looked over the same pages countless times since they first landed on his desk and the knowledge they held had already been sucked dry. Besides; how was he supposed to focus with his recent meeting with Edward so fresh in his mind? He actually ran into the kid and got a chance to talk to him, but he was unable to tell anyone about the information he learned. For the kid's sake, he had to act as if it never happened.

Even though he didn't know  _why._

He was certain that Fullmetal wasn't responsible for Tresler's death. Therefor, there was no clear reason as to why he wouldn't go straight to the military to clear the entire situation up. There had to be something else underneath the surface that was keeping him away. Whatever it was, it must have had the kid terrified, judging by his sorry appearance.

Perhaps Ed was being blackmailed or something...

If Mustang couldn't trust the military to find the truth, then he could at least trust himself to keep Edward from getting trampled within the system, if it came to that. Usually, that would be the case. But this time, he had to believe that going through the military wasn't the best course of action- for the moment, anyway.

But with a deep sigh, Roy mustered up the energy to read through the file again.

_Victor Tresler, age 41, born February 4th, 1871, died September 19th, 1914, bla, bla, bla, killed by a bullet to the heart from an FM Model 1910, bla, bla, bla, bla. He was last seen at the Blue Dog Bar on Arter Road and 9th Avenue just before the time of death, bla, bla bla. So on and so forth._

Roy lifelessly shifted the first page to the side, making room for another. The only thing that was mildly interesting was that the hand gun was the same type that is commonly used by the military. If the killer was truly in the military, then that could be a possible link to Edward. But of course, it wasn't impossible for a civilian to get their hands on the same model, so the connection wasn't nearly enough to mean anything. Roy could barely restrain himself from slamming his head down on the desk. But before he could consider it further, his attention was drawn away from his own suffering by the sound of soggy footsteps and the office door opening. The scent of smoke drifted into the room.

"Sorry I'm late," Jean Havoc called as he tossed a soaking jacket onto the coat rack. "Got stuck in traffic. The rain's so bad that people can't even see where they're going!"

The energetic blond strolled over to his desk and took a seat, just as Hawkeye plucked the cigarette from his mouth, earning a disapproving pout from the second lieutenant. She swiftly put the embers out in the ashtray that was conveniently left there for that purpose, undoubtedly wondering how Havoc managed to keep it lit in the foul weather. He slouched in his chair, knowing that audibly complaining would only lead to getting an earful from the woman.

Breda snickered at his friend's expense. "You didn't hydroplane into someone, did you?"

"Of course I didn't. I'm an great driver," he corrected, sending a halfhearted glare over to Haymans when he laughed.

"Well then," Roy began abruptly, cutting their conversation to an end as he drummed his fingers on the polished surface. "Now that we're all together, let's discuss this. Has any new information come in since Friday?"

"Investigations is supposedly sending over a new report soon, sir," Hawkeye answered.

"Investigations...?" Roy drawled as tacit understanding slowly dawned on him. A certain Head of Investigations had been very nosy lately when it came to Tresler's murder and he had no doubt that the same man wouldn't pass up any opportunity to drop by.

"Good morning!" an unnaturally loud, cheery voice erupted from the doorway, drawing all eyes towards it. Maes Hughes walked into the office with an arm raised amiably up in the air as he waved, and a folder in his other hand. "Happy Monday, everyone!"

Roy sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He knew for a fact that Maes disliked Mondays just as much as the next guy, since they always brought an end to his weekend family time. He was clearly being overly cheery just to spite the colonel, once again. But if anyone were to ask him, Hughes might say that he was just trying to  _rub off_ on his friend.

"There's no such thing, Hughes," he sighed. "On with it; any new information regarding the case?"

"Actually, something of interest did happen this weekend," the man answered, his smile gone and replaced with a sober, serious expression. Roy drew his hand away from his face, mildly surprised by the sudden change in demeanor.

The lieutenant colonel slowly reached for his pocket as the air thickened with anticipation. The longer he waited, the more he felt himself grow nervous from the uncertainly. He failed to realize that he began to hold is breath by the time Hughes pulled out a small paper.

"My little Elicia got even  _cuter_  this weekend!" he announced proudly and shoved a photo of his child in Roy's face.

A collective sigh was heard throughout the office as each of the member's hopes were dashed and replaced with a revived fear of Maes' photo sharing.

"I don't want to hear about your daughter," Roy growled through his teeth and he tried and failed to push the man's arm away.

"Of course you do! She'll cheer you up," he grinned, pulling the photo back to admire it himself.

"You know very well that there's only one thing that will cheer me up right now," Mustang replied with a frown firmly in place.

Hughes considered him for a moment before shrugging and sliding the picture back into his breast pocket. "Alright, alright, I get it. Is this what you're looking for?" he inquired, holding the file up. When Roy replied with an expectant glare, the investigations officer dropped the folder onto his desk

"Don't get too excited, Roy," Hughes warned as he folded his arms with a faint, disappointed frown. "There's nothing too interesting in there." Mustang was already digging into its contents and didn't bother to give a decent response to his friend.

Sightings, sightings and more vague sightings. Either Edward had to be more careful when he traveled, or people were getting a bit too excited about the situation and were making stuff up. Or both. Some of the reports were just ridiculous. For example, one said that Edward Elric was seen working at a print shop in North City last Saturday. Another stated that the brothers were spotted at an antique armor museum in South City. He could at least see how the person got confused with that one.

However, one report in particular caught Mustang's attention; it said that Fullmetal was seen running down the same street where Roy found him two days ago. There were a few more iffy claims about spotting the blond in the surrounding areas on the same day as well. Their chase through the streets must have turned more heads than he first thought. This put Roy in a difficult position. As things currently stood, he didn't want Ed to get caught by the military. While he still believed that it would be the most effective way to clear the situation up, there was obviously an essential missing detail that Roy needed to find out before doing anything rash. Which means, he had to talk to Edward again... But until then, he couldn't allow the kid to get found. If Ed couldn't even tell Roy what happened, then he wasn't going to tell the entire court-martial either. His refusal to speak would just cause far too many problems. But at the same time, Mustang simply couldn't lead the search away from his location either. It would be too suspicious if he favored a less likely area anyway.

He had to be smart about it. If Roy could play his cards right, then he could keep the military away from Edward long enough for him to find the kid himself and pry some answers out of him.

"Alright," Roy began as he set the reports back down, vaguely realizing that Hughes was talking about something irrelevant and he completely cut the man off. "We'll send soldiers to each of these sightings to investigate."

"Even the ones in other cities?" Hughes asked, arching an eyebrow.

Fullmetal was obviously not running a print shop in North City, or any of the other idiotic cases that were reported. To send soldiers there would look like a waste of time and resources. While Roy did want to do what he could for the kid, he would rather not harm his own reputation in the process. Searching such unlikely areas would make him look desperate. While everyone knew that Mustang was eager to find the boy, it hadn't come to that yet. He had to play his part as he always had.

"... No, we'll focus on Central City for now." The colonel stood up and circled his desk, eyes set on the door. "We'll start by searching the south side of the city." Where he saw Edward on Saturday. If someone was going to run into Edward, then it had to be him. Meanwhile, he'll just send soldiers to check the other, less likely areas to keep them busy.

Roy paused abruptly when Riza Hawkeye stepped into his path. "You're not going anywhere, sir," she proclaimed in a tone that shot a new sense of worry into the colonel.

He stared down at her for a moment, refusing to be shaken by his own subordinate. "Fullmetal is out there somewhere, Lieutenant. I'm not going to just sit here."

"You're not going to find him in this weather." As if to prove her point, a loud boom of thunder echoed outside. Roy turned his head and watched the heavy stream of rain water pouring from the sky. How did he manage to forget about  _that_  little detail...? "You have too much paperwork to catch up on anyway."

The colonel's stare returned to the blonde, not bothering to spare a glance for the other occupants in the room. The look in Hawkeye's eyes told him that he might as well go sit back down. He somehow forgot to think about it before, but Edward would have had to be crazy to be out and about in the heavy rain. She had a point.

"... Then we'll wait for it to clear up," he coughed and turned back to the window and his desk, pointedly ignoring the amused expressions of the others.

"Leave the fieldwork to us for now, sir," Riza continued sternly.

The colonel didn't respond besides a quiet groan of annoyance. How was he supposed to watch over Fullmetal when he couldn't even get out of the office? Well, he would have to try again later. That was a battle he would continue with Hawkeye after the rain settled down. As Roy returned to his desk, he paused and gazed out at the darkened city once more.

Yes, Fullmetal would have had to be crazy to be out in that storm...

* * *

Rain poured down from the sky and crashed into the earth with the force of stones. It was cold and merciless, easily convincing all who fell victim to its wrath to flee to the safety of their homes.

All except one.

Each drop out of millions weighed him down with every step as he trudged along the gravel, holding his arms in a meager attempt to protect himself from the relentless bombardment. The rain pounded against the nylon material of his raincoat and filled Edward's eardrums with its rhythmic drum, drowning out all other sounds. It pierced through his very thoughts and left him in an unresponsive trance.

He couldn't think, he couldn't hear, and he couldn't feel anything besides the never ending stabs of rain that had long since numbed his skin to the touch, nullifying the ache in his automail ports. But his goal was still clear in his mind. The single light in his tunneling vision. The only person that kept him sane throughout the chaos. He had to find Alphonse. He  _had_ to. It has been days since Ed has had any substantial human contact. While he would rather die than admit it to anyone, he was afraid.

Edward was no fool; he saw that look in his eyes every time he caught his reflection; that desperate, frightened gaze that he tried to ignore was beginning to haunt him. It was ridiculous. To be scared of his own reflection was laughable, especially next to whatever Alphonse was enduring at the moment. In comparison, Edward had no right to be shaken by what had happened. For his brother, he had to put everything behind him and focus primarily on the task at hand. He knew that well; he had ingrained the concept into his skull. And yet, actually acting on it was incredibly difficult. No matter how much he wanted to think of only finding Alphonse, he was constantly disabled by suffocating regret every time he closed his eyes.

The pressure and weight of Ed's own actions had incapacitated him.

Meanwhile, his younger brother was locked up somewhere with only a psychopath for company. But Al was strong; stronger than Edward in many ways. Nonetheless, he was still the younger of the two and believed in his older brother to rescue him.

All of those thoughts followed him, but not as distinct, individual ideas. Instead, they took the form of feelings that swarmed his mind and constricted his chest until he couldn't breath. Was he choking on the onslaught of rain, or did he just forget how to inhale? He couldn't figure it out- not at the moment anyway, seeing as the sleep deprivation refused to let his mind work properly. Edward had tried to sleep. He knew that getting proper rest was important. Since Al wasn't there to remind him, he had to step up and remind himself instead. Days ago, he could do nothing but sleep. Now, it simply wouldn't come. Every attempt was swallowed up by the unshakable feeling that he could be doing something else- something productive. But as much as Ed would like to blame all of his problems on his inability to sit still, it wasn't the entire truth. Paranoia was creeping up on him, just waiting for him to let his guard down long enough for it to grab hold and never let go.

The way people looked at him and whispered when they believed to be out of earshot- it was slowly getting to him. It was as if they could see through the hood that veiled his face and know exactly what he had done. His mistakes, sins, demons, regrets; they could see it all and they had the  _right_ to judge him because no normal person would do such things. It was only a matter of time before someone figured out who he was. The innkeeper, the employees, the other guests, the old man who owned the nearest market- some day, one of them would catch a glimpse of his face, hair, or his automail and alert the military. It didn't matter to them that his reasons were fair. To anyone but Alphonse, he was wanted by the state. He couldn't trust anyone to keep his presence a secret; they had no reason to.

Society currently believed Edward Elric to be a murderer. He couldn't blame them for wanting to turn him in. Hell, he'd do the same exact thing to someone else. He wouldn't necessarily care if a wanted criminal had a brother to protect, because Ed only cared about  _his_  brother. He was selfish, just like the rest of the world. That was how it worked, and he accepted it.

Ed kept telling himself that he didn't care and it didn't matter. His only priority was to rescue Alphonse. He would deal with the consequences later. That was the only thing he  _could_  tell himself in order to continue moving forward. Any less, and he would fall to the pressure-  _and_   _the guilt._

Edward stopped walking and looked up, squinting past the torrent of water that hit his face.

He was facing the same warehouse where everything began. His sight of the numbers on the building were distorted in the waves of rain, but he knew without a doubt that it was the right one. He had replayed the memories of it countless times in his mind and knew it by heart.

With a deep breath, Ed approached the building and grasped the metal handle of the warehouse door. He repressed a shiver and pulled the door open, nearly taken off balance when he finally stepped inside. He had been walking through the barrage for nearly an hour straight; it was almost surprising to finally be free of it.

He pulled the door shut behind him, briefly reveling in the new sounds that surrounded him. The rain was battering against the metal roof instead of his hood, which he had finally pulled back.

He fumbled along the walls for a light switch and hastily turned it on. The florescent lights buzzed to life and lit the interior, besides a few bulbs that remained dark, just as before. Edward's eyes traced the walls until he discerned that it was exactly how he had last left it. The shelves looked untouched and the boxes stacked up against the far wall remained.

Except this time, his brother was no where to be seen.

Edward didn't exactly know why he decided to go back to the warehouse. It wasn't the first time he had returned since the original meeting, so he already knew for a fact that Riece took Alphonse and disappeared. There was nothing else there.

But if he were to believe that, then Ed would be lying to himself. He came back because he was desperate. That was the only word befitting the hollow feeling that grew inside his rib cage with every passing second.

Riece had even told him to wait- that he would somehow get in contact with Edward after the dust settled to return his brother unharmed. That was the deal. But he  _couldn't_ wait. He absolutely could not sit still and do nothing. For all he knew, that bastard has already killed Alphonse and skipped town. Ed was an idiot for believing him in the first place. Of course, he was always suspicious, to say the least. But looking back on it after all was said and done, he wasn't sure what else he could have changed, let alone how. He was forced into a corner and lost all control of the situation.

So many days were wasted by searching for any sign of the man, but it was as if he never existed. Perhaps it was just due to Edward's lack of artistic talent, but no one could recognize Riece's face or connected anyone with the name. Nor has anyone seen a suit of armor anywhere.

Ed cynically wondered if he ever truly expected to find the man in the first place.

He increased the risk of capture every time he left the inn, but what else could be do besides ask other people? There was nowhere he could go, no one who could help- he couldn't  _trust_  anyone. He was left alone, forced to find the answer to an unsolvable puzzle by himself.

Edward blinked and shook his head, realizing that he had been staring into space for an indefinite amount of time.

The teenager sighed and aimlessly walked to the other end of the large space, each soggy step echoing against the walls. He paused and looked down at the spot near the wooden crates where he had last seen his brother. He distinctively remembered the fear in his glowing red eyes. But Al wasn't afraid for himself- it was fear for his brother and was he was being forced into doing.

Did Alphonse know? Did that jackass tell him what happened...?

He cringed away from the image, banishing it back into the deep crevasses of his mind. He couldn't continue to distract himself with the past. Regardless of what Al now thought of him, he had a job to do! The alchemist rubbed his eyes and blinked at the ground, willing himself to focus. There were several faint scratches in the concrete, likely caused from the splintered metal of where Al's lower legs were ripped off. Did he try moving himself or was he dragged away? He grimaced at the thought of Alphonse trying to defend himself against than maniac without any limbs. But either way, it didn't help Edward in the slightest.

With a weary sigh, the blond turned and followed the direction in which the scratch marks pointed to. He approached a basic, almost unnoticeable door on his right and alchemically unlocked it with a single touch of his hand.

He had done the very same thing the last time he visited. Edward already knew that nothing of interest was inside. It was just a cluttered office space used to store the more valuable objects, such as tools and scraps of old technology.

But he still felt the need to check.

After flicking the single light on, the alchemist did a quick scan of the room, giving a glance to everything from lose notes to dusty boxes. He idly searched through drawers and shifted objects around, knowing all too well that it was pointless.

A small, vainly hopeful part of his mind believed that he would stumble upon a map that could magically lead him directly to his missing brother.

Stupid.

Edward exhaled through his teeth and turned around to leave. He reached for the light switch, then immediately froze with his breath caught in his throat, staring intently at the door. A note had been taped to the faded, wooden surface. He knew for a fact that that wasn't there a few days ago.

The teenager took a step forward and carefully pulled the small paper from the door as if his shaken touch was enough to crumble it to dust. He read over the small note once, twice, three times, mind twisting into knots. It wasn't addressed to anyone, or signed, but it was clearly meant for him.

_I know how to stay out of your sight. No matter what you do, you cannot find me. Stop snooping before someone else catches on to what you have done. Be patient until the moment is right, and you will get your reward._

Edward stared at the paper for a long moment before finally crumpling it up in his fist, unconsciously grinding his teeth together.

That bastard knew that he was looking for him! But how did he knew that Ed would return to the warehouse? But more importantly, what was taking him so damn long!? At least he now knew that Riece was still in the area. The fact that he did somewhat make an attempt to contact Ed through the note was enough to slightly reassure the blond. In order to get Al back, he just had to wait.

Except he hated the idea of waiting. He was sick of playing that man's twisted game!

But Edward was unable to do anything about it. He was pathetic and alone and couldn't do a damn thing. He could walk around with all the confidence in the world, but when it came down to it, he was completely powerless.

Ed had left the small office and slammed the door shut behind him, not bothering to fix the lock. He had no idea where he was going or what he was going to do, but he kept walking, too blinded by his swarming thoughts to think clearly.

That man had him running in circles. He was furious at Riece, but even more so at himself. Ed thought he was being clever, but he was really just wasting his time and energy. All this time, he ignored the blatant fact that he couldn't do anything alone. He was always leaning on someone; whether it was Alphonse or Mustang and the team or even the entire military as a whole.

Ed had only vaguely noticed when he stepped outside and the bombardment of water continued, pelting his bare head rather than the fallen hood.

The strength of his muscles all but abandoned him as Edward slid down the wall of the warehouse, oblivious to the water dripping down his face and soaking his clothing through the coat. He brought his legs up to his body so his arms could rest of his knees.

Alphonse was waiting for him, yet he was sitting against a building in the warehouse district. He was so pathetic.

Edward wanted to find that bastard and Alphonse so badly, but he was facing a dead end. He didn't have any brilliant ideas or connections to turn to- he had nothing to work with.

Looking back on it, it seemed like it was always luck or coincidences that got them so far. They would just stumble into their goals. They would meet the right person at the right time to point them in the right direction.

But the Elric brothers ran out of luck.

Ed had to accept that he wasn't going to simply trip into the answer this time.

However, Edward and Alphonse Elric were strong. Somehow, someway, they would get through it. They still had to find the Philosopher's Stone and reclaim their bodies, and they weren't about to let a random psycho get in their way.

Edward had to believe that.

For Al's sake.


	4. Chapter 4

_The sun had fallen long ago, casting the world into darkness. Storm clouds rolled overhead, grumbling with thunder and lighting._

_Edward stepped into the alleyway, casting his shadow into the narrowed path as a streetlamp flickered weakly behind him. The inconstant light illuminated the drizzling rain drops as they fell and shattered upon impact with the ground. A light sprinkle had begun only a few hours before, but the concrete ground and brick walls had already been entirely soaked by the endless shower._

_Ed's golden eyes were nervous and dilated as they landed on a metal door, which led into the back of a bar. He slowly moved forward until he was facing it, then leaned back against the opposing brick wall to wait._

_He didn't know why he was waiting. His brain refused to tell him, but he knew there was a purpose. Whatever the reason may be, there was... something he needed to do. Whatever that something was, he knew that his intentions were good. There was someone out there who would want him to turn around and leave- part of himself wanted to as well- but at the same time, he was convinced that that would never be an option._ _Whatever he was there to do, it needed to happen. Not because the other option was worse, but because there truly was no other option. It was like blinking. A person couldn't simply decide to stop blinking; their body denied them the choice. Any and all defiance to that law would quickly be snuffed out in favor of the subconscious demand._

_Finally, the door handle turned with a squeak and opened to reveal an older man, likely in his forties. He wore a black jacket, which protected his buttoned shirt and lose tie from the drizzle. Lights and laughter from the bar filled the air as the man stepped outside, before it was abruptly cut off as the heavy door slammed shut behind him._

_Edward wasn't particularly familiar with him, but something told him to memorize every detail of his rather unremarkable face. He had dark blond, almost brown hair that was combed back, but began to fall messily back into place throughout the long day. There were hints of gray in his neatly trimmed beard and worry lines had formed into his features. He had tired, yet confident eyes, but Ed wasn't able to make out their color in the darkness. His mind filled in the blanks for him, whispering the name Victor Tresler._

_While he was directly facing Edward, he didn't seem to notice the kid. His head turned from side to side, looking down the alley and then back to the dimly lit street. Tresler appeared to be anxiously searching for something. Or rather, he was expecting something unfortunate to jump out in front of him._

_But that was exactly why Edward was there, wasn't it? He was sure of it now._

_Someone was after that man's life and it was Ed's job to warn him- to save him._

_The blond took a step forward, seeing that simply facing him wasn't enough to grab the attention of the possibly intoxicated man. "Hey," he started but instead of his usual brand of blunt confidence, his voice came out as a gasped whisper as an unsettling chill suddenly ran down his spine._

_When Victor's eyes finally fell on the boy before him, he took a small, hesitant step back as if he was startled. Confusion and fear flashed across his visage, but it was quickly hidden by a forced, controlled expression._

_"What do you want, kid?" He asked, now looking down on Ed as if he wasn't much more than an inconvenience._

_Victor Tresler could be as ungrateful as he wanted; Edward didn't really care. He just wanted to get the man out of that alleyway. That was all that mattered. After that, he would be safe and Ed could move on with is life._

_Ed cleared his throat, recovering his usual tone. "Someone wants to kill you," he informed brusquely, nervously glancing towards the lifeless street. He could feel time running out. "Come on, you gotta get out of here!" He insisted, gesturing with his hand to the safety of the main street._

_Tresler quirked an eyebrow and smiled in a ironically amused fashion. "You want to help me?" He laughed. "You could help by leaving me be."_

_Edward glowered at the man, feeling his impatience rising. "There's no time for this," he argued. "Quit being stupid and follow me before they get here! Don't you care?" He wasn't entirely sure who 'they' were, but he had the daunting impression that something was coming. His gaze darted down the alley again- he felt eyes watching him from all angles and could have sworn that he heard footsteps._

_"Just go away, kid," Victor huffed, casting a wary glance down to the blond._

_Why couldn't the fool understand that his life was at risk!? Ed growled and reached forward, grabbing hold of the unsuspecting man's sleeve and puling backwards. If he wasn't going to come willingly, then he would just have to force him. It was for his own good, after all._

_The streetlamp from behind flickered again, then went out, suddenly leaving Edward blind in the swallowing darkness. He froze as a sense of dread filled his chest, nearly choking him with its density. He was still aware of the fabric of the older man's jacket in his hand despite the fact that he couldn't feel it through his automail fingers. He held onto that fabric tightly as if that alone could keep the man alive as the unknown swarmed around them._

_The lamp switched back to life after a moment, returning an uneasy light back down the alleyway._

_Ed's breath was caught in his throat when his eyes adjusted to see his hand was now on Victor Tresler's chest, just over his heart. He had no recollection of ever moving his hand after grabbing the man's sleeve, and he didn't feel any movement after the light went out either. How the hell did that happen?_

_He simply stared in confusion for a moment, then slowly looked up to the older man's face. Just as their eyes met, a pained, terrified expression smeared across Victor's face for a split second. The spot where Edward's fingertips touched his shirt suddenly exploded into what looked like a rapidly blossoming flower of red. The alchemist drew back quickly as the burst of blood fell over him, consuming his vision._

_He took several shaken steps back and wiped his eyes with his sleeve before looking up again, noting the red tint that warped his sight. The thick liquid had drenched him- it made his clothes cling uncomfortably to his body, stuck between his fingers, and matted down his hair._

_Victor stood tensely still with a horrified expression embedded in his features. A deep pool of blood had stained his shirt, down his sleeves, and dripped off his paralyzed fingers. Through his daze, he coughed, splattering red down his chin as he choked._

_His eyes locked onto Edward's, stealing his ability to look away and rooting him to the spot._

_The man looked absolutely horrified and betrayed. His eyes were haunted with a confusing mix of countless intense emotions, and it terrified Ed to the core. He managed to spit so many insults and accusations and heart wrenching questions at the boy all with the silent look in his eyes._

_Ed was incredibly confused and dumbfounded. What did he just do?_

_There was an automatic trust between human beings, even those who were no more than strangers to each other. To him, Edward had somehow betrayed that trust by doing the unforgivable. No one ever saw it coming. It was sudden and uncalled for and impossible to understand._ _It was treason against humanity in its cruelest form._

_He felt a deathly frigid gust of wind swept through the alley that chilled his very bones. His throat closed up on a suffocating sense of regret and horror._

_But he just touched him- Ed couldn't have been the one to spill so much blood!_

_He looked down and raised his blood soaked arm slightly, wondering how lightly touching the man's shirt could have possibly caused so much harm._ _Except when his eyes landed on the object in his hands, he stiffened and his eyes widened as his lungs began to beg for the oxygen that was stuck in his mouth._ _It glinted in the dim light, cold and mercilessly. The blood that had completely covered it shined with a red hue, causing Edward to feel sick to his stomach._

_The gun rattled as his hands shook uncontrollably. This wasn't his fault- the weapon was to blame._

_And yet, the black tool whispered to him, congratulating him on a job well done. He felt like an accomplice in a crime, and his partner was proud of what he had been forced and tricked into doing. He didn't want any part of it, and yet he did it anyway..._

_But no- this wasn't him. This couldn't have been his fault. He couldn't- he wouldn't have done this!_

_However, his hands dripped with another human's blood and the murder weapon was in his grip. He violently recoiled away once the reality sunk it, trying to throw the gun as far away from him as possible, but his mechanical fingers refused to listen to him. Instead, he watched the digits tighten around the dark weapon against his consent._

_Consumed by panic, Edward looked up as Victor staggered forward, causing the teenager to back up until he reached the brick wall. The older man's eyes rolled back as he fell forward, his head landing inches away from Ed's feet with a thud. He flinched with his eyes shut tightly, pressing his back harder against the wall, frozen in place._

_He desperately hoped that none of this was real. Ed would give anything to open his eyes to see the four walls of his dorm and Alphonse sitting beside him with a book. But the steady, light drops of rain continued, telling the blond that he wasn't going to be magically transported away anytime soon. Even the rain felt thick like blood, refusing him the small comfort of blind denial._

_How could he had been so naive to believe that he could have actually saved anyone? He couldn't even trust himself to do the right thing._

_The alchemist pried his eyes open when he heard the shuffling of fabric below him to see Victor inching closer to Ed on the ground. Blood oozed from his body and combined with the puddles of rainwater, quickly spreading across the ground with a dark red. He reached forward and locked Ed's ankle in an iron grip, leaving the kid far too shocked to consider fighting back._

_Victor's head slowly craned upwards; his skin had already turned a lifeless gray color and his eyes were bloodshot and hazy, but his gaze bore into Edward with a burning, hateful intensity. The air around him stank with death as if his body decayed at an alarmingly unnatural rate._

_"You. . . You did this," the body gasped, peering into Edward's very soul as he tried and failed to find the strength to run. "You killed me," it said again, louder. "You are a murderer!" The ghostly frail voice distorted into an ear-piercing scream. Ed flinched away from the accusation, but he couldn't run from it. The shrieks left him feeling weak and paraplegic._

_Part of it was that suffocating fear that demanded he run away, but gave him no option to do so. It taunted him as it asked him to do the impossible and called him a spineless coward._

_Another part was a quiet corner of his mind telling him that he deserved to listen to the voice. Victor was telling the truth, so he had no right to flee from it. Taking the blame was the very least he could do, after stealing the life out of another person. He half hoped that if he just endured what he deserved, that it would somehow serve to lessen his regret._

_"Murderer!" Another voice screamed from behind him. Edward pivoted around, far too distracted to notice that the wall had vanished. There was no longer a distinguishable setting around him- just darkness, blood, and figures lurking in the shadows. He felt the weight of their glares that left him feeling exposed as voices called out his sins._

_"Murderer!"_

_"Murderer!"_

_"Murderer!"_

_Edward brought his hands up to cover his ears from the voices. They echoed in is skull, leading him to wonder if they were truly real or simply phantoms of his own imagination._

_His hands froze before his face once he remembered the blood that had covered him. His hands were rightfully stained red, glistening ominously in the dim light. Edward still clenched onto the gun, disgusted by how it fit perfectly in his grip._

_Ed breathed uneasily through his teeth as he forcefully used his flesh hand to loosen the uncooperative fingers of his automail. When the weapon finally fell from his hand and hit the ground, the sound of the impact cut through the accusing shrieks that surrounded him with a noise that rung through his ears._

_That gun... The sole purpose of its existence was to hurt other people. Edward Elric used it for exactly that reason, but he didn't even know why. His brain had closed itself from him when he needed it most, leaving him to question himself. Ed was repulsed just be looking at the weapon, so surely he would never actually want to use it._

_But he couldn't deny the fact that he did._

* * *

Edward lurched forward, gasping for air. His heart was pounding in his chest and he could hear his blood pulsing in his ears. He immediately looked down at his hands and a shaken sigh of relief escaped past his heavy heaving when he didn't see them dripping with blood.

Something akin to a choked sob managed to sneak past his defenses as he wiped a layer of cold sweat from his brow. His hands were shaking violently as the images of his dream flashed behind his eyelids.

So much blood. He could almost smell the iron.

Ed wrapped his arms around his body as he made a weak attempt to compose himself. He was so tired of this. Running around all day in search of the man who kidnapped Alphonse, making absolutely no progress day after day, being consumed by paranoia and fear every time another human being walked near him, dreading sleep because of the horrible nightmares...

He used to think that the first few days after failing to transmute his mother was the worst time of his life, but at least he had Alphonse to keep him grounded. Before Mustang came around and slapped some sense into him, he felt like an empty failure who had no reason for living. He may had been unresponsive and felt dead inside, but Alphonse was by his side through it all. No matter how bad the world had seemed, he wasn't alone.

The same couldn't be said this time around, however. Al was gone. It seemed that the person who took him was watching Ed's every move, leaving him no way to find them. Every attempt made him feel like a child who was pointlessly trying to take something back from a parent. He didn't have the strength or the ability, so all he could do was pathetically try and look like a fool in the process. He was a mouse in a trap, running around in circles.

The blond leaned back against the headboard and exhaled a quivered breath as he tried to reclaim some sanity. After several long seconds of controlled breathing, he rubbed his eyes and looked towards the analogue clock that said it was almost nine in the morning. He wasn't exactly sure when, but Ed had gotten back to the room very late last night - or rather, early that morning. He was just glad that he managed to get as much sleep as he did, though it still wasn't nearly enough.

His sheets had been drenched with sweat, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he pulled his legs over the edge of the bed and buried his head in is hands.

Why was he so damn susceptible to nightmares? Surely not many people had the same problem, so why him? He had been plagued by them for years, but lately, they had come every night and had primarily switched focus to Victor Tresler since the incident.

Then again, not many people had done such terrible, unthinkable things. Not like him.

Edward let out a shuddered sigh between his hands, repressing a shiver that wanted to run down his back. The guilt was eating away at him but he was trapped in what felt like a perpetual state of stagnation. He couldn't continue to wake up every morning as a choking wreck and tell himself that everything was fine. He had even considered going straight to the military several times, but that was obviously not an option. If he could get charged with the crimes he was guilty of and face the consequences, then perhaps it would become almost bearable. Ed just wanted to somehow remove some of the burden that clung to him like weights. But no matter what happened, he  _could not_ go on like this. He simply wouldn't be able to live each day pretending that he wasn't stricken with grief.

But Ed couldn't afford to worry about himself until Alphonse was safe. And even after that, he still had to get his brother's body back to make up for his first mistake. So, no, he couldn't get himself thrown in prison. He didn't really want to, anyway. But the guilt was intolerable; he felt a cold pit in his chest every time it so much as crossed his mind.

This wasn't about him- it never has been. The only thing that mattered was finding his brother. Why would his own guilt matter more than Alphonse' life? Edward had no right to wallow in his own self pity when a life was on the line.

The blond sighed and pushed himself off of the bed. It was so easy to tell himself to get over it so he could focus on Al, but it was much easier said than done. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't get the pictures out of his mind, or the voices out of his ears.

It was a cruel cycle.

Edward trudged over to the restroom to splash some water on his face, hoping it would help somehow. But before he got to the door, he heard several pairs of footsteps outside the door and he immediately froze. He waited a moment as they trailed on, then slid over to the bed and crouched behind the edge, staring wide-eyed at the door, which was barricaded by the dresser once more.

He did the same thing every time he heard a sound in the hall. He knew the chances of someone coming here for him were slim, but he couldn't refrain from panicking each time. It was most likely just the innkeeper escorting new guests to their rooms, as it had been all the times before.

The footsteps stopped in front of his door, followed by a hesitant silence. Dread spiked in his chest as he felt his blood run cold. Ed's automail fist curled around the draping sheet as his breath was caught in his throat, fearing that simply exhaling would be enough for them to hear him. The silence stretched on for several nerve-wrecking seconds before he heard a knock.

 _Don't freak out yet. It's just the innkeeper again,_ he told himself, forcing air into his lungs.

They knocked again when he failed to answer. After another moment, the doorknob began to jar as if they were going to unlock it with a key.

The innkeeper wouldn't just force her way into his room, since he just paid the other day. Nor would she be completely silent. He had no choice but to assume the worst. It had to be the military.

How the hell did they find him? He was so careful to be discrete... Perhaps Mustang tracked him down from where they last met. He wasn't terribly far from that cafe. With his resources, it probably wouldn't have been too hard to pinpoint his location.

Shit. Had he really believed that the Colonel would just leave him be? Of course not. He should have been more cautious. He should have left the area as soon as he was out of Mustang's sight.

The doorknob clicked just as Edward had kicked himself into gear. He jumped across the room and grabbed the single suitcase that he had managed to pack just before the chaos began several days ago. He always made sure to have it prepared just in case this very situation occurred. He then grabbed his raincoat off the side of the bed and sprinted over to the bare wall, opposed to the restroom.

The door opened a crack as it dented the barricading dresser.

"We know you're here, Edward Elric!" a deep voice doomed, sending a new jolt of fear down the blond's spine. "You are wanted by the State. Surrender quietly, or else we'll be required to use force!"

He clapped and created a hole in the wall that opened up into the next room, which he prayed was empty. Edward slipped inside and alchemically closed the hole again just to see them force the dresser aside. He caught a glance of the black uniforms of the military police before the wall sealed closed.

Ignoring the shouts from behind the wall, Ed turned to check his surroundings. The room was dim, lit only by the light that cracked through the curtains. The bed was made, and there wasn't a single thing out of place. Thankfully, it seemed like no one was in there with him.

With a tight grip around the handle of his suitcase, Edward ran towards the door with his brown coat over his shoulder, not daring to sacrifice the time to put it on, and unlocked the door. He peered around the corner to his own door; one of the MPs remained outside while the others searched the room for him, but he wasn't looking in Ed's direction. A nervous looking innkeeper was further down the hall, distracted by whispering to one of the employees. She must have finally caught on and ratted him out.

Without any hesitation, Edward turned away from them and ran down the hall. He skid around the corner, cursing under his breath when his suitcase collided with the wall. He didn't bother to check if the military police officers noticed, deciding to focus primarily on running.

The fleeing alchemist soon reached the lobby, promptly ignoring the curious glances that he was given by other guests and employees. He was painfully aware that he hadn't hidden his noticeable blond hair in the rush, but he hoped that the lack of a braid would keep him from being easily recognizable. He was just glad that he hadn't bothered to remove his black jacket from the night before, so his automail was still mostly covered.

Edward shoved the front door open, squinting his eyes as sunlight sneaked through the gray clouds. He was mildly surprised to see that the rain had stopped, but the weather wasn't where his attention currently was.

Several military cars were parked in front of the building, where a few more uniformed men waited. He froze upon seeing them, mind scrambling as his eyes darted from side to side, in search of the best option of escape.

One of the men donning the blue uniform turned towards him, eyes widening as recognition struck. Ed's heart skipped a beat from the shock, as he recognized the man as well.

Jean Havoc scrambled to pull the cigarette from his mouth after the initial surprise wore off, intending to speak. But before he could get the words out, Edward had turned his back towards the second lieutenant and broke into sprint once more.

"Wait, Chief!" Havoc yelled, sounding strangely desperate, as he and the others followed.

At that moment, the only thing Edward knew was that he was being chased. It didn't matter that one of his pursuers was someone he liked to call a friend on most days. It didn't matter that he was one of the most trustful and loyal people that Ed had ever known. All that mattered was that he was running for Al's sake, and there were people who were trying to stop him.

Ed pushed his way through crowds, trying to get as much distance between him and the military as possible. He vaguely heard the other blond calling after him, but he paid no mind to it as his eyes scanned the streets in search for a good route to take. He had to get out of the open before he could get out of their sight for good.

A small, childish part of him wanted to stop and trust the military to take care of everything for him. But Edward hated that thought and refused to acknowledged it, and denied that it ever came to mind. It was  _his_  job to find Alphonse and set things straight. It was  _his_  job to fix  _his_  problems, and he couldn't allow anyone else to interfere.

There wasn't anyone actually willing to help anyway.

While he did like to think that Havoc truly cared for Ed and Al's well-being, at least to some degree, even he couldn't be trusted. The man was fiercely loyal to Mustang, who was obviously set on hunting the Elric down.

When he ran into the colonel last weekend, Ed found himself wanting to believe what he said. He was so surprised that Mustang made no move to arrest him. All of that talk about wanting to help and being concerned- it was probably all said just to distract and blind him. For all he knew, Mustang followed him back to the inn right after they finished talking, and knew where he was the entire time.

. . .

Why didn't he consider that until it was already too late?!

Edward clenched his jaw, nearing biting his tongue as he turned around a street corner. His eyes danced around the area, rapidly searching for any holes or crevices. But before he could find anything, Havoc and the two other officers appeared around the corner as well, and they were gaining. Ed continued running, trying to ignore the growing strain in his legs and chest as the cool air ripped through his throat. Havoc was the most athletic in the team, and was quickly closing the gap between Edward and himself.

"Stop running!" Havoc breathed as he slowly caught up. His words sounded more like begging than an order, but Ed was in no mind to notice. It didn't matter what Havoc thought about the whole situation; he was following orders. "We can just- talk!" What was with them and trying to  _talk_ all of a sudden? Ed wouldn't fall for it this time.

Edward took a deep breath and forced himself forward as he felt Jean nearing up behind him. The alchemist jumped over the fence of a restaurant's outdoor patio and swerved around tables and people alike. His smaller frame made him more agile than the grown man behind him, allowing him to make swift movements between the tight spaces.

Havoc followed him through the patio, but his mindfulness for the people around him slowed him down. Edward nearly toppled into a waiter, then leaped over the fence once more. The other blond struggled to shrug himself past the citizens as the other military men decided to go around the fenced area instead.

He had to act while they were slowed down. Without sparing them a glance, Edward ducked into an alley between two buildings. He was hoping to find a way to the other side of the building before they caught up, but he was greeted with a dead end instead. There was no time to turn around at that point.

Ed spun around, give each direction and corner a glance in hopes of finding  _something_. But the walls were far too high to climb and there weren't enough trashcans to hide behind either. They were only seconds behind him; he had no time to think.

Edward dropped the old suitcase by his feet and clapped his hands, mindful of the voices that were coming closer around the corner. His palms collided against the cold brick wall as equations and elements swirled in his brain, hoping that his own mind wouldn't turn against him too.

Another wall extended outward, making a duplicate of the three that trapped him. With the extra wall, he effectively shortened the alley, but created a box around himself in the process. However, his only concern was tricking the uniformed men when they turned the corner. He did what he could with the limited time to embed the brick design into the wall and hide the transmutation marks, but it wouldn't be perfect. He just had to hope that it was enough.

Edward lowered himself to the ground and threw a hand over his mouth to muffle his heavy breathing when he heard hasty footsteps enter the alley.

"Shit," a breathless whisper came from the other side of the transmuted wall. "He couldn't have gotten far; keep looking," Havoc ordered as he addressed the others. They replied stiffly and hurried away.

Edward slowly put his other hand over his mouth as well, painfully aware that the second lieutenant was just two or three feet away from him. Based on where his voice came from, he was right next to the wall. Did he notice the transmutation marks? Ed had hoped that he didn't know enough about alchemy to realize how it was used. The older man definitely heard it, or at least saw the flash from around the corner, but how likely was it that he knew exactly what the teenager had done?

"... So close," Havoc muttered with a wary groan. "I was so close."

Ed flinched away from a metallic bang, quickly followed by a crash, as if someone just kicked over a trashcan. There was a beat of heated silence before Havoc decisively made his way back to the main street with quieting footsteps.

The teenager held his breath for several more tentative seconds, irrationally afraid that they could somehow hear his very heartbeat. After a moment passed, he let out a quivering breath and lowered his arms to his side, finally allowing himself to breath. His legs trembled and his lungs burned from the exertion. It wasn't a particularly long or strenuous run, but the the sudden burst was still enough to wear him out.

He sighed and rolled his head back to look up out of the little brick box that he had made for himself. The clouds weren't as dark as they had been the past few days and they even allowed some room for sunlight to slip through.

It certainly didn't feel like the sun should have been shining in that moment.

It was becoming abundantly clear that the situation was steadily going down hill. None of this was supposed to happen. He was quickly losing control of the situation, if he ever had any at all.

He had questioned and contemplated it so many times; why was this happening to him? Why was his life falling apart of the seams? Whether it was karma, the universe, fate, God, Truth; he didn't know what he had done to deserve this.

Yes, he had broken the taboo of alchemy, but he already paid the price for that! Even so, he knew that he didn't deserve a particularly comfortable life. He was still so young and had already endured so much, and was prepared for it to continue for years to come. But  _this?_

His only family had been taken away from him, he was forced to distrust and turn away from the only people he might have dared to call friends, and he was left all alone to endure a physiological torture that he was incredibly ill prepared for. To make matters worse, he saw no end in sight.

Supposedly, everything would fix itself when Riece decided to be merciful and reveal himself, but he couldn't even be sure that that would ever happen.

And what exactly was he supposed to do about that!? The man was invisible- nonexistent! Edward had hunted down plenty of criminals and wanted men before; he knew how it worked. But none of his tactics have gotten him anywhere. He was left with absolutely nothing to work with.

Trying was useless.

But there was nothing else to do  _except_  try.

Edward groaned through his teeth and rubbed his eyes, then lowered his gaze to fall on his outstretched legs.

He couldn't stay there.

Ed was in no position to underestimate people. If Havoc was examining the wall, then he very possibly could have noticed the transmutation marks but figured that Ed had kept running from the other side. Just because the older blond wasn't an alchemist didn't mean that he couldn't recognize when alchemy was used. It was entirely probable that he or the other military personnel would return later to get a better look.

His only sense of safety had been swept away, leaving nothing to replace it. Going back to the inn wasn't an option, and the search for him only increased with every passing day. It was amazing that he managed to get a room at the inn without giving up his name in the first place, but then again, money could do wonders. Of course, he was running out of that and couldn't step foot near a bank anyway.

Perhaps he should start looking for a bridge to sleep under.

Edward chuckled mirthlessly, reveling in the uncanny irony.

Mustang seemed worried that Ed had lodged himself under a bridge before, but in the end, it was the colonel's actions that would eventually lead him to one.

With a sigh, the blond decided to leave the alley after giving the search some time to die down. He pulled his suitcase over to him and rummaged inside in search for a hair tie, pausing only briefly when his eyes landed on his red coat tucked within.

That trademark flamel coat gave him confidence, which was something that he was running short on lately. It was amazing how something as insignificant as a piece of clothing could affect his entire outlook. But sadly, that coat had no place in the situation he had found himself in.

It was far too bright and recognizable for him to actually wear it, even underneath the raincoat he had picked up some time before. And for whatever reason, he didn't want it to be associated with everything that had happened to him lately. He didn't want to taint it.

Once all of this chaos had passed, Edward didn't want to look at the coat that he had grown so attached to and be reminded of these unpleasant memories.

It was just another measly attempt to forget.

He knew it was pointless. He knew that he would  _never_  forget. And yet, part of him still wanted to try, because trying was really all he could do.


	5. Chapter 5

Something was seriously wrong.

Roy's desk shouldn't have to gain a new forehead-shaped dent every time his amiable best friend stepped foot inside his office. This was a problem that Roy saw no solution to.

"Oh come on, Roy," Hughes drawled, stepped up to the desk. "I'm just as invested in this case as you are."

Roy glared through the cracks between his fingers as his hand nursed his bruised forehead. "Don't you have your own work to do?" he grumbled.

"Yep," he agreed readily and tapped the case files that littered Mustang's desk. "This."

Roy sighed and looked past the obstructive man to the rest of his staff. They were all watching him with varying amounts of pity. Except Hawkeye; she simple gave him an expectant look, telling him to accept defeat already. Hawkeye had no pity whatsoever. At least, that's what it felt like on most days.

Before Hughes walked in, Roy was just about to begin going over the reports from yesterday and hear Havoc's thoughts on the matter in person, seeing as he was lucky enough to actually run into Edward. But before he could get anywhere, the lieutenant colonel invited himself in, swiftly putting a pause to all progress and throwing Roy into a ten minute long argument.

As the head of Investigations, Maes already had access to the case's information but that certainly didn't mean that Roy had to invite him to every meeting. Despite that, the man had insisted on being kept up to date, much to the colonel's displeasure.

However, he couldn't say that his friend's presence wouldn't benefit the search. If anything, that was exactly was Roy was worried about. Behind that goofy exterior, Maes was exceptionally keen and intelligent with a sharp eye for detail. Roy feared that he would lead them straight to Fullmetal. Seeing as Mustang was currently trying to help the kid behind the scenes, that wasn't exactly what he wanted. It was a delicate situation that Mustang needed complete control over. If other people tried to get involved- people who weren't on the same exact page as Roy- then everything could fall apart.

But on the other hand, Maes clearly shared his opinion on the entire situation. Since the two Elrics moved to Central, the family man had kept a careful eye over them. Of course he was worried and just wanted the best for them. Perhaps Roy was just being paranoid. Besides, there was no way out of it at this point.

"Alright fine," Roy groaned and rubbed his face as Maes let out a victorious cheer that sounded very unbefitting for a lieutenant colonel. "Moving on," he continued, pointedly ignoring the overly energetic man.

His eyes fell back down to the map that was flattened out on his desk, sweeping the stray files off to the side. There was a pin marked in each area were the infamous Edward Elric had been sighted since his disappearance.

He held Havoc's report in front of his face as his eyes danced over the handwriting, failing to actually read the words. He had scanned over it countless times now, but still found it hard to believe that the lieutenant actually  _found_  Edward. Roy assumed that if Ed didn't want to be see, then it would be much more difficult to track him down. But after seeing the kid at the cafe, he easily noticed how drained he looked. Fullmetal was slipping.

Roy was relieved to learn that they found him staying at an inn, however. While it was on the cheaper side of town, he was just glad to know that Ed had a roof over his head. Of course, that could no longer be said now that they successfully chased him out. It would most likely be impossible for the blond to find another inn that will accept him, seeing as there's currently a reward for sending information on is whereabouts to the military. Roy hated to think that Edward was currently wandering around the city without anywhere to go because of his orders. To make matters worse, the rain was supposed to pick up again later in the day.

If he had known that things would have turned out this way, Roy would have handled it differently... But regretting the past and second guessing himself would only hold him back. The only thing left to do was accept the situation, and deal with it accordingly.

If only he could do something to get another roof over Ed's head. No subordinate of Colonel Mustang's would be living on the streets if he had anything to say about it.

How different could things had gone if Roy was there? He wanted to go, but Hawkeye  _kindly_ _suggested_  that he remain at the office to work on the overflowing amount of paperwork. Of course he tried to insist that finding his subordinate was something that  _he_  needed to personally do. A hint of sympathy flashed through her brown eyes for a brief moment, but even that wasn't enough for her to drop the matter. He could have pushed it further, but then he would have risked looking suspicious, if he didn't already. Hawkeye always had a knack for reading him like an open book.

It was natural for the colonel to have secrets, even from his own team; they understood that. There was a reason and a purpose behind everything he decided to keep from them. They functioned on a trust system.

But this was different because Edward was directly involved. Every person in that room was deeply concerned for the kid and would not like to learn that Roy wasn't telling them the whole truth. But he believed with absolute conviction that keeping the secret wouldn't necessarily be for long. He would continue to uphold his promise to Fullmetal until the situation was behind them all.

If telling his team about his meeting with Ed would somehow serve to help the kid in the long run, then he usually would have considered doing so. But Roy could not get that wary, haunted look in Ed's eyes out of his mind. There was no trust- and that was something that Mustang could not stand for. He wasn't sure what he did and what changed to cause such a reaction, but breaking the kid's promise was the last thing he was going to do. Something else had broken, and Roy had to fix it.

"Havoc," he called as the blond snapped to attention. "You said here that you saw Fullmetal when he left the inn. Did you get the chance to look at him?"

"Look at him?" Havoc echoed under his breath as his gaze became distant for a moment as he pictured the encounter in his mind. "Not for very long, sir. When he saw me, he just… stared for a few seconds, then went off running. He didn't look right. I almost didn't recognize him."

"What do you mean?" Roy asked, slipping a hint of curiosity in his tone, although he already knew exactly what Havoc was saying. Edward was no longer dressing in his usual garb, for one, and he looked skittish and frightened like a deer caught in headlights. He was nothing like the fiery teen they had come to know.

"He didn't look like himself at all. He looked so… guilty."

Roy's visage hardened and his jaw tightened. He knew that something had clearly bothered the teenager, but… guilt?  _Guilt?_ What could he possible have to feel guilty about? Then again, this was Edward Elric they were talking about; he could feel guilty for any number of ridiculous things. But that clearly wasn't what Havoc was saying.

"What are you implying?" Roy asked quietly after a strained moment.

Havoc hesitated and struggled to keep himself from appearing uncomfortable under the colonel's sudden stare.

"I don't like it any more than you do, Boss; but what if he-" Havoc paused for a beat and pursed his lip, the words tasting sour in his mouth. "What if he really did cause Tresler's death somehow? I mean, I've never seen the Chief like this before. He's been through a lot the past few years, but nothing like this. I don't know what else could have caused him to-"

"Let me stop you right there," Mustang cut in, raising from his seat with both hands placed on the map. "Do you mean to tell me that  _Edward Elric_ killed an innocent businessman who had never even considered committing a crime in his life? Do you think he's even  _capable_ of that?" He stopped himself before he could mention that he also saw Fullmetal's sorry state with his own eyes.

Havoc was apparently smart enough to keep his mouth shut before he dug himself a deeper hole. There was tension in the air as every one of the room's occupants were acutely aware of how the subject had become touchy with their superior officer.

"No one wants to think that Ed would do that," Breda interjected, with his usual calm, almost indifferent expression embedded on his visage. "But he's obviously deeply involved, and whatever part he played, it's getting to him."

Roy's eyes fell on the other man, who watched him in return with an arm slung over the back of his chair, almost daring the colonel to argue his point. But he couldn't. No matter how he tried to look at it, Breda was right. He spoke an undeniable fact that Mustang had to come to terms with.

Roy lowered into his seat and leaned back, willing himself to calm down as he exhaled through his nose. While the entire case struck a chord within him, he couldn't allow himself to get too worked up over it or become blinded.

He intertwined his fingers and glared into the map in deep contemplation as his mind turned.

Roy had to find Edward again and get the story from him directly. But he couldn't follow through on the order to bring the kid in for questioning either. He could explain his thinking to the team, and he was certain that they would all gladly go along with it, but he would be putting them at risk if it ever got out. But, he needed them in order to find Fullmetal in the first place.

The colonel narrowed his eyes slightly as he searched his mind for a plan of action. He then looked up to see that all eyes were on him once more. He cleared his throat.

"Nonetheless, we need to find him," Roy needlessly said quietly, looking down at the map again.

"Are… are we really going to arrest Edward?" Fuery chipped in timidly, clearly distressed by the concept. While Kain was older than Fullmetal, he always admired the teenager's bravery and determination. He's been something akin to an inspiration to the Master Sergeant.

"We're not arresting him" Havoc replied mirthlessly. "We just want to… take him into military custody." Jean, and the rest of the team for that matter, had a dismal air around him as he spoke. As Breda stated, none of them wanted to think that Ed had actually done anything wrong. While they were forced to follow orders in spite of whatever they thought, every person there still deeply hoped that the blond was innocent.

"That is the definition of arresting," Falman added factually, sounding just as subdued a worried glance from Fuery.

"There must be something keeping Ed from talking to us," Breda sighed, ignoring the warrant officer's comment as he crossed his arms. "If we could get him somewhere secluded, then maybe..."

The other men had delved into their own conversation, as they often did. Even Hawkeye added something, although Roy had already stopped listening by that point. His dark stare fell back down to the map, jumping back and forth between each mark. So far, each sighting created an ever growing circle. Fullmetal wasn't going anywhere in particular, but just constantly increasing his range. Ed did say he was searching for someone, after all.

What was his name again? Riece? It was unlikely that the kid would be able to find anything on his target with that little information, especially since he didn't have any help.

Didn't he also say that Alphonse wasn't with him? That could have meant countless things; too many, in fact, that Roy didn't even want to think about it. While he hoped the younger Elric was alright, that was another thing that he couldn't deal with until he got another chance to talk to Fullmetal in person.

But if Al was missing, then that would certainly explain Edward's deteriorating appearance.

A finger suddenly appeared within his view and tapped a specific place on the map, just north of the cluster of sightings. Roy questionably looked up to see Maes leaning on his desk again with a knowing smile. He had been so uncharacteristically quiet, Roy nearly forgot he was standing right beside him.

"More sightings of Ed came in about an hour ago. He apparently got in an argument with a shop owner and it raised a few heads," he explained softly as the others conversed in the background, oblivious to the new progression. Hawkeye glanced over, however, but was out of earshot.

Roy immediately wanted to demand why he waited to reveal the little detail until now, but bit his tongue in favor of finding another pin to stick on the street corner of his map. Ed's encounter with the military the other day must have really shaken him. Even after running into Mustang, Fullmetal stayed in the general area. Now, he had traveled a few miles north into one of the nicer sides of town. If it wasn't for his impulsive, hotheaded nature, then they would have completely lost Ed's trail. He suddenly found himself feeling thankful for the kid's rash behavior.

Wait- that corner was awfully familiar… Roy did a double take at the map, picturing the area in his mind as he read over the closest street names.

The colonel barely refrained from gasping as a vague idea fabricated itself inside his mind, then slowly warped into the beginning of a plan.

It was ridiculous, risky, and wouldn't work properly unless everything went  _perfectly._  The chances of Ed actually going along with it were even less likely, but it was his best shot. If it actually worked, then Roy would be killing several birds with one stone. The concept managed to make him feel a twinge of apprehension and hesitance, but he didn't see any other way around it.

If he could work out the details enough for it to actually  _work_ , then this case could finally get somewhere. But if it couldn't manage that much, then he would at least get a bit more peace of mind.

It was nowhere near perfect, but he didn't have time for a perfect plan. It could manage, and it was all he had to work with.

Everything came down to what Edward had to say. Judging by his last conversation with him and how he reacted to seeing Havoc, the young alchemist clearly had no interest in talking for very long. He didn't seem to realize that he had seven people who were all willing and able to back him up. He could try to talk to the kid civilly, but he would likely just run away. Therefor, there was no other choice but to chase him down until he would listen. As much as the colonel disliked the idea, especially considering the fact that Roy wasn't Ed's favorite person at the moment, it was the most effective way.

"Roy," Maes interrupted quietly; his somber tone surprising Roy enough to grab his attention away from his musing. The alchemist looked over to his friend as he remained leaning against his desk, who quickly glanced around the room as if he was making sure no one was listening. Much to Hughes' apparent relief, the others were still caught up in their discussion.

His olive eyes watched Roy carefully, setting a quiet alarm off in Roy's head. A faint smile then tugged at the corner of Maes' lips, implying the smallest degree of mirth. "What aren't you telling us?"

Roy paused, ensuring that his crafted expression was nothing short of unreadable. He replied easily, not missing a beat. "What are you talking about?"

They stared at each other for a moment in a tacit silence, before Hughes stood up straight and widened his smile. "Never mind." He then looked away, bringing his focus back to the louder conversation.

Mustang glared at the back of his head for a moment longer.

Damn it, Hughes.

His friend just blatantly told him that he knew Roy was hiding something. He could never allow himself to underestimate that guy. He knew there was a reason why he didn't want to the lieutenant colonel in his office. But how did he figure it out within minutes? Perhaps it was the stubborn way Roy defended Ed... He had to be more careful. But not only did Maes somehow see through him so quickly, he also made it abundantly clear that he wasn't going to pry.

Roy would have to buy him a drink later.

But first, he had to focus on finding Edward and work on his plan to actually get to the blond… And to do that, he had to do a bit of research on someone who apparently goes by the name of Riece. Not much to go off of, but he didn't need much for this to work. With the military records and Vato Falman's memory, he was sure that he could find what he was looking for.

"Listen up, everyone," Roy interjected through their conversation, paying no mind to whatever they were discussing. The office became wrapped in silence as Mustang pushed himself up to stand up straight. His trusted subordinates gave him their undivided attention, which alone was enough to form a small smile on his usually focused expression.

"I have a plan."

* * *

Roy stepped out of the car and simultaneously opened an umbrella above his head to protect himself from the pouring water. He shut the door behind him and heard Hawkeye do the same from the other side of the car as he turned to face the building.

The small grocery store looked almost desolate under the dark shadows of the rain clouds. The lights were on, spreading the warm yellow out onto the sidewalks and illuminating puddles, but there wasn't a soul in sight from where the colonel stood.

Based on the time of day, it usually shouldn't have been so dark out, but the storm had returned with a vengeance. Just as Roy was beginning to think that it was passing, the thunderclouds rolled out of nowhere and attacked the city without a shred of remorse.

He hated the rain, and rain hated him. Part of Roy's motivation for working so quickly on gathering the information he needed and perfecting his plan the best he could was so he could get out into the field before the water started falling. But alas, he was too late.

The colonel approached the door as Hawkeye circled the car to follow closely behind. A bell above the door frame chimed as he stepped inside, handing the umbrella over to the lieutenant. Summoned by the bell, a stout man appeared behind the checkout counter from a side room. He had graying brown hair, a full beard and tired eyes that showcased his age.

"Ah, welcome, welcome," the older man greeted from across the counter. "I'm surprised to see anyone come out here in-" he paused for a beat, eyes falling on the blue of their uniforms beneath their greatcoats. "-this weather."

"Good evening," Roy began formally, going through the automatic pleasantries. "I'm Colonel Mustang and this is Lieutenant Hawkeye."

The shopkeeper's smile faltered for a moment, before shaking Roy's hand. "Albert Bray. What can I do for you two?"

"We're here regarding the robbery that was reported earlier today."

"The attempted robbery, you mean. They sent a colonel to deal with that little street urchin for me? I'm honored," Bray commented, sounding anything but.

"Could you describe what exactly happened?" Roy pointedly ignored the insult to his subordinate.

The man nodded, finding a more comfortable position by leaning against the wall behind him. "So this kid walks in early this morning. I think he was trying to blend in, but he stuck out like a sore thumb."

"How so?" Roy asked quickly. He thought Ed blended in relatively well when he saw the kid at the cafe, considering he was covered by a practical rain coat, just like everyone else these days. To hear that Ed was suddenly sticking out was concerning, to say the least.

Albert thoughtfully shifted his gaze out the window. "Eh, he was covered in mud like he spent the last week running around in the rain. And he seemed really jittery and wouldn't look at anyone in the face. Kept his hood up even though he was inside. The kid was just looking at the food as if he wanted to buy something, but I figured if he didn't have the money to wash his coat, then he wouldn't have the money for anything else.

"I was watching him since he came in, but I finally had enough of it and called him over. Course, he just made a run for it; I thought he took something by how fast he was going, so I sent one of my employees after him. But while he was running after the kid, I checked stock and it turned out that everything was accounted for."

"This employee who chased him; is he still here?"

"Phillip? Yeah, he's here. Hey, Phillip!" the man called down the store. In response, a young man hastily rounded a corner and walked towards them through an alley of grocery products.

Phillip looked to be only a few years older than Edward. He had neat dark brown hair, a freckled complexion, and definitely looked fit enough to run after the Fullmetal Alchemist. "What do you need, Mr. Bray?"

"Tell Colonel Mustang here about that street rat you chased down this morning."

"Street rat? Mr. Bray, that was the Fullmetal Alchemist! Remember, I told you about how he killed someone and now the military's looking for him?"

"What? Oh, right, right. Well, on with it," the older man replied quickly, waving the teenager towards the two officers.

"Alright; what do you want to know?" Phillip asked as he faced the two.

Roy paused for a moment before responding, mentally dueling with himself to decide if he could comment or not... Ah, screw it. "First of all, the Fullmetal Alchemist was  _accused_  of murder. Nothing has been proven," he informed, willing himself to speak factually rather than chewing the kid out. "Regardless, I'd just like to know where you last saw him."

Phillip hesitated for a moment and cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. Well, I chased him down this street-" he started, pointing out the window and to his right."- until he got to uh, 12th Street, I think, where he turned the corner. When I followed him around, he was gone."

"12th Street, hm?" Roy muttered under his breath, envisioning the area in his mind. "Alright, we have what we need. Thank you for your cooperation." He gave a curt nod to the two workers and made for the door. Hawkeye said a polite farewell and followed him, immediately opening the umbrella as soon as they stepped outside.

"... You know where Edward is just based on that, sir? The blonde asked as they approached the car, rain hammering down on the black umbrella.

Roy allowed a knowing smile to tug at his lips as he looked ahead to the flooded street. "There's only one place in the area that's safe for Fullmetal now, and he was heading right towards it."

"And where exactly is that?"

Roy stepped into the back seat of the car and looked back out towards the lieutenant. "The park." He shut the door.

Hawkeye climbed into the drivers seat and closed the umbrella just as she pulled the door closed. "... The park, sir?" She asked skeptically as the engine roared to life, accompanied by the taps of raindrops against the metal roof.

"Fullmetal can't go into any buildings to escape the rain, or else he'll risk being seen. The only coverage within miles of here is at the park. Plus, it'll be deserted right now," he explained as he watched the small streams of water crawl down the window.

"How do you know he didn't create a shelter for himself with alchemy instead?" The car smoothly began rolling forward.

"I don't. But given where he grew up, I'm willing to bet that Fullmetal would prefer to hide out under a big tree than in a brick box or under an outdoor patio table."

The remainder of the short drive was mostly silent, interrupted only by loud cracks of thunder. Roy watched the scenery go by as a nervous anticipation slowly grew inside of him. If his prediction was wrong, they they could spend all day looking for the kid. While he did have five other people to help search, he would rather it not come to that.

He  _knew_  Edward Elric. After three years, Roy liked to think that he could predict the kid's actions, at least more than most. He knew this part of the city even better. There was nowhere else for the young alchemist to go.

The car slowed to a stop besides the edge of a park. The usually lively area was dark and dreary, swamped by the bombardment of water. The level of the lake in the center was higher than usual, leaving little room to walk around the perimeter.

Edward could have been sitting under any one of the many trees that circled the lake. It would probably take Roy at least twenty minutes to walk around the entire thing if he hurried.

Hawkeye watched him through the rear-view mirror, catching his eye. "I'm going to walk around," he announces, raising a hand to take the umbrella. She handed it to him as he cracked the door open, allowing the cool, moist air to sweep inside. "Keep an eye out." With that said, Mustang climbed out and shut the door before the rain could get inside as well.

He opened the umbrella above his head and looked around towards the stretch of faded blue and green. With a deep breath, he walked forward, the wet earth squishing beneath his feet.

_If I was Fullmetal, where would I hide?_

The kid would obviously keep as far away from the main roads as possible, which means that he would get as close to the centered lake as possible. But he wouldn't want to feel exposed, so he would look for a group of trees.

The colonel followed the dirt path, diverging from it only to walk through clusters of trees in search of the teenager. He had to remind himself once or twice to look for a brown coat instead of a red one.

The wind blew the rain at an angle, which made keeping himself dry with the umbrella to be quite the challenge. The waterlogged ground had already soaked his shoes and his hands were growing stiff from the cold.

He just wanted to find Fullmetal and get out of the damn storm. But knowing his luck, he wouldn't be surprised if nothing went as planned.

When he reached the half way point, Roy approached another collection of large trees that sat right next to the lake's edge. His mind was still buzzing with hopeful anticipation as he closed in on the foliage. At first, Roy almost overlooked him. That brown, mud-covered raincoat blended in well with the bark of the trees; only the flash of blond through the hood saved Roy from completely missing him.

Edward Elric sat at the roots of a large, slanted tree that curved back and effectively shielded him from the majority of the downpour. He leaned back against the trunk and hung his head low, covered by the hood. He was so still that Roy began to wonder of the kid was still breathing. But no, that was a pointless thought. Best to stay away from such tangents.

Mustang released a heavy exhale after realizing that he had been holding his breath. Pursing his lip, the older alchemist scanned his eyes over the area, making sure that he was positioned correctly. With one more glance to confirm that Hawkeye's car was within sight, he decisively stepped forward.

As he approached, he assumed that Edward would hear the sound of water battering against the nylon of his umbrella before he reached him, but that wasn't the case. The teenager remained motionless, causing Roy to question if he was asleep.

The colonel got within a few feet of the blond and opened his mouth to speak, but Edward flinched violently away from him before he got the chance. He must have suddenly noticed shoes appear within his range of sight.

Ed's sudden jerked movement caused him to fall off the curve of the roots and he scrambled backwards, out under the rainfall. He hastily moved a hand up to his face to slide the rim of the hood away from his eyes to see who had appeared.

Roy ensured that he didn't look as apprehensive as he felt when Edward's eyes locked onto his. The teenager immediately froze to the spot on the soaked grass.

Havoc and the shopkeeper weren't exaggerating; Edward looked like a wreck. His skin was paler than usual, highlighting the dark circles that underlined his eyes. His usually fiery golden eyes were drastically dilated and rimmed in red, suggesting a serious lack of sleep. He also seemed completely unfazed that he was currently sitting on the sodden ground. Roy had to fight to keep the horror from slipping onto is expression.

What _the_   _hell_  had happened to his subordinate?

"Hey, Fullmetal," Roy began, feigning a calmness into his tone, mostly to simply break the silence than anything else. He held the umbrella loosely in his hand, while the other was nonthreatening at his side. He had the impression that any wrong move would set the kid off.

Edward stared at him for several long seconds, as if he was having a hard time believing that the colonel was truly standing before him. "W-what are you doing here?" he breathed, forcing Roy to strain his ears in order to make out the words through the heavy rain.

He knew Ed would ask questions, but everything he had previously prepared in response had all but abandoned him. Mustang bit down on the inside of his cheek, feeling a cold emptiness hollow out his chest. He couldn't fathom how he had allowed this to happen to Edward.

"... I'm just checking up on you," he answered lamely.

Edward continued to stare at him intently for several more seconds. Finally, he opened his mouth uncertainly. "You're not... you're not really here, are you?"

Roy's scrambling thoughts were put on an abrupt hold. "... What?" Of course he was here. What did that even mean?

Fullmetal blinked and rubbed his weary eyes. "Never mind," he muttered with a shake of his head. He looked up at the colonel again, but his expression now housed a distrustful glare. "You're a real bastard, ya' know that?"

Roy blinked. So much for a civil conversation. The common insult held much more poison than it usually did. He opened his mouth to reply, but Edward continued.

"It's funny, really. You tried to tell me that you were worried I was sleeping outside, and then you turn around and force me to do exactly that," he spat, voice slightly slurred, as he pulled himself up to his unsteady feet. "Real hilarious, Mustang."

Roy couldn't just tell him that he only sent people to the inn because he didn't think Ed would actually be there.

"You said you were worried and just wanted to help, and wouldn't turn me in to the military, but you were lying the whole time. You just wanted to track me down to where I was staying," the teenager growled as his hands curled into fists at his sides. "But I won't fall for it again! I don't care what you have to say, 'cuz I'm not listening!"

This... wasn't good.

Edward was obviously not thinking straight. His eyes blinked in and out of focus and he wavered on his feet. The kid looked absolutely sleep deprived, which meant he would have little to no control over his emotions as well. If Ed was in his right mind, then Roy might have been able to have an actual discussion with him.

"I haven't had any intention on following through with the orders to bring you in since we last spoke," Mustang explained, hoping his own calm demeanor would help quell Ed's anger. "The incident at the inn... It wasn't supposed to happen how it did."

Edward scoffed and took a step back. "Yeah right. That had your fingerprints all over it. I even saw Havoc there." Edward's shaken gaze lowered to the puddled ground for a moment. "He said he just wanted to talk too... I'm not falling for it! So just stay away from me." Fullmetal turned away and started stomping across the soaked grass field.

Roy's brain kicked him into action as he hastened his pace to catch up. "Hold on, Fullmetal. You're sleep deprived and not thinking clearly. You need to let us help you," he ordered, awkwardly walking besides the seething teenager.

"I don't need your help."

"You can't do this alone!"

Edward stopped mid-step and glanced at the colonel with a confusing mix of emotions flashing across his expression. The strained silence stretched out as the air was filled with the sound of raindrops tapping against leaves and into the pool of water.

"... Shut up."

Roy bit at his lip, amazed at how much the kid had changed just over the course of a few days. Edward was falling apart right under his nose and he had no idea how bad it truly was. Just looking at the broken alchemist caused a suffocating ache in his chest.

He reached forward to put a reassuring hand on the kid's shoulder. But before he could get there, Edward flinched back and slapped his hand away as if it had just turned into a knife aimed for his throat.

"J-just get away from me," he desperately begged through his teeth and stepped back again. Roy was startled by just how frightened and  _different_  he looked. It was incomprehensible and unnatural. Before he could figure out what to do, Ed had turned his back to him and broke into a clumsy sprint, splashing water with every step.

"Wait, Fullmetal! I have information that-" he trailed off, realizing that the rain drowned him out as his target shortened into the distance of the field. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. Damn it. He couldn't allow this to go any longer. Edward needed his help whether he realized it or not and Roy didn't care if he tried to refuse it.

It's a good thing that he prepared for this.

With a deep inhale, Mustang stalked out of the safety of the trees and turned back towards Hawkeye's car from across the lake and widely waved his arm. There was no doubt that she was watching, and hopefully saw Edward running. In response, the headlights of the vehicle flashed.

It was time to switch to Plan B.


	6. Chapter 6

That relentless bastard!

Why was Mustang so damn stubborn? How did he even find him? Why did he keep insisting that he wanted to  _help?_

And endless stream of new questions clouded Edward's mind as he ran across the swamped field, nearly distracting him from his footing. Each step splashed murky water into the air that sunk into his already-drenched clothing as he charged through it, covering him in mud and grass. Even with the hood over his head, the pouring rain fell into his face and eyes as he fought to keep himself from being blinded by it.

Now that he had gotten past the initial alarm of seeing the colonel, an almost irrational anger flared up. Ed was  _finally_  able to find a half-decent place to sit, but the other alchemist  _had_  to show up and ruin everything. If that wasn't already bad enough, in his haste to get away, he completely forgot about his suitcase which he had left behind the tree. He would just have to come back for it later. What an amazing inconvenience.

_Thanks, Mustang._

His eyes were trained on the rows of trees by the edge of the park and the tall Central City buildings behind them. If the colonel was after him, then his best chance was to lose him in the city. Sure, it didn't quite work out the first time, but he blamed that on bad luck. Ed risked glancing behind him as he ran to see the man was walking after him.  _Walking_. He was clearly in no rush. But whatever; that just gave Ed more of a head start. He didn't have the mind to question it rather than take what he could get.

That man didn't care. It didn't make sense for him to care. Colonel Roy Mustang was a notorious liar who would say anything to get what he wanted. As soon as one of his pawns stopped working, he slipped into this concerned persona which, quite frankly, did not fit his style. He was quite the actor too; Edward almost wanted to believe what he was saying. But that would be foolish. Mustang made it abundantly clear when Ed first joined the military that he was nothing but a tool. Even after three years, he always tried to remember that before he got too comfortable.

Edward tore through the trees and stopped at the edge of the park by the main road to catch his breath. He hadn't run that far, and yet he was already exhausted. He stumbled over to one of the trees and placed a hand on the rough bark before he lost his balance. His vision blurred and spun as he breathed heavily for much needed oxygen. The teenager blinked drops of water away from his eyes and tried to collect himself, but his body refused to cooperate as a wave of nausea suddenly hit him.

This was  _not_  the time.

Ed's right shoulder slumped into the trunk of the tree as his balance fled him, and he threw a hand up to his aching head. This was happening more frequently as the days went on- it had to be the lack of sleep. Even Mustang managed to notice that he wasn't getting enough. He thought it would get better since he managed to get a few hours in yesterday morning before getting chased out of the inn, but that was just from pure exhaustion. He spent last night huddled in a corner between some buildings and was unsure if he got any sleep at all, or just dazed into space for hours. Either way, his body still hasn't gotten the rest it demanded and he was currently paying the price.

Edward tightened his jaw as he willed his vision to straighten out. When he felt less disoriented, the blond pivoted around to check for signs of Mustang, but his view was obstructed by the trees. With an exasperated sigh, Ed turned back to the street and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

A car drove by, causing him to flinch away from it as its headlights grazed him and a wave of water splashed out from its tires. Once it was gone, he saw another car turn a corner in the distance, coming towards him. He momentarily debated with himself, trying to decide if he should hide behind one of the trees, or run across the street to the buildings before it passed him.

As he watched the vehicle drive closer and closer to him, Edward decisively stepped out onto the blacktop and hastily moved across to the other side, careful to keep himself from losing his footing again. The yellow light hit his side as it approached him; he glanced towards it, wondering if he could see the driver, but his gaze automatically focused in on the long strings of rain as the lights highlighted them before they crashed to the ground, finding himself unable to focus. He could almost feel the eyes on the inside watching him, but was psychically unable to look back. Even his sight was turning against him, refusing to do as he commanded.

Edward nearly tripped over the edge of the sidewalk as he reached the other end and ducked into the small opening between two buildings. He pressed his back against the wall as it took all of his strength not to collapse to his knees. The cool, moist wind burned down his throat as he gasped and miserably failed to recollect himself.

With a deep inhale, the Elric poked his head out to watch the car. As it got closer, he irrationally began to wonder if the driver was looking for him specifically. What if it stopped right besides the building and saw him immediately? What if it was the military? What if it was Riece, watching him as he said he would be?

If he had to pick one thing that currently bothered him the most, it would be the annoying pattern of paranoid thoughts that appeared in his mind every time he stopped to think about something. Ed wasn't always so irrational and it irked him to no end. He was certain that these randomly sprung ideas were unlikely and that there was no point in worrying about them as much as he did, but there was no way to get away from them. Once they latched onto his brain, they would remain and grow stronger until he did something about it.

Edward saw a flash of movement towards the forest and assumed it was Mustang coming out of the trees. He couldn't stand there, mind swarming with unreasonable what-ifs any longer. Ed turned on his heel and blindly maneuvered his way through the buildings. He had no idea where to go, besides  _away_.

He couldn't trust anyone, he couldn't let anyone see him, he couldn't talk to anyone; he just had to get away.

But wait; Alphonse.

New plan: he had to get far, far away, find Alphonse somehow, then get even further away.

That would work, right? Edward heard himself laugh mirthlessly at himself as he slowed his running to a stop when he approached a two-way intersection in the alley. Of course that wouldn't work. He needed the military to find the Philosopher's Stone for Al. How was he supposed to get his body back without those resources? But he already kissed them goodbye when he first met Riece...

Edward selfishly pushed those thoughts away, as he had done countless times already. He inched towards the wall and rested his forehead against the cold brick, barely noticing when his automail fist collided into the wall, cracking it slightly. A voice in the back of his head screamed at him to keep moving as he felt eyes fall on him, but his leg port ached and his flesh limbs cried from exhaustion.

No, his entire body cried from exhaustion. He was so tired of running away and messing up and being on the defensive and not being able to do  _anything_. He hated it. He hated it  _so much._ But of course, he couldn't do a damn thing about it. Not when he was falling apart at the seams and constantly on the run. This wasn't working, so something clearly had to change. But he was stuck at a dead end. With nowhere to go and no one to turn to, he was trapped.

Edward's bloodshot eyes flew open, unaware that he had closed them in the first place. He glanced to his left and grew rigid as he saw a figure slowly approaching him through the waterfall that dripped off the rim of his hood. He couldn't see past the black greatcoat and the blue uniform underneath due to the darkness of the storm. Was it Mustang? How did he catch up so quickly? Ed was fairly certain that he had only stopped for a few seconds, but he did have a new tendency to blank out every now and again.

The figure hesitated, keeping a semi-comfortable distance. "Hey Chief." Havoc. What the hell was Havoc doing here? Oh wait; Mustang sent him to chase down Edward like a common criminal- of course. "I know you don't trust us right now, but the colonel really just wants to talk. I don't think he even plans to- ."

"What are you doing here?" Ed breathed, cutting the other man off despite his tired, weakened tone. "What are you  _really_  doing here? Cut all this crap about _just_   _wanting to talk_  because I'm not buying it! You didn't seem to wanna sit down for a chat when my door was broken into," he growled, more-so at the situation itself than the man in particular. He knew Havoc was just following orders, but that sure as hell didn't mean that he had to be okay with it.

"Whoa, easy there." The taller blond paused in his tracks as he switched to the defensive. Ed's eyes shifted in and out of focus as he glared at him, unable to read his facial expression. "Come on, you know that the last thing we would want to do is hurt you. So-"

Ed didn't wait to listen to the rest of his spiel and ran off in the opposite direction, nearly slipping in a puddle in the process. He didn't hear the splash of the man's quick, athletic steps behind him, but he couldn't be sure that Havoc didn't intend to follow.

He had to run; he had to get away from all of these people who just wanted to trick him. They were all just waiting to catch him off guard and throw him behind bars. A long forgotten voice tried to reason with him; tell him that maybe, just maybe, he was wrong. That voice just might have been right, but he couldn't afford to risk Al's safety by listening to it.

He couldn't listen to them. He didn't need them. They wouldn't want to help. He didn't need them. Edward repeated this mantra to himself as he sprinted through the narrow paths, wiping rain water away from his face, breathing sharply through his teeth.

Through the heavy rainfall, Edward could see himself approaching another intersection with three options, but the path that was straight in front of him was blocked by a precarious arrangement of trash cans and wooden creates. He didn't have the mind to question it as he turned to the right instead, but then stopped dead in his tracks.

"Hey kid," Breda greeted casually with his arms folded. On a good day, Edward could have easily gotten past him -and Havoc for that matter- but today certainly wasn't a good day. His body throbbed and it took all of his departing energy just to keep himself on his feet. He wasn't about to risk a rebound by preforming alchemy in that state either.

The second lieutenant just watched him as he stared back, gasping for air. His stern expression faulted for a moment as he was given the chance to examine the teenager. Edward didn't want to know what he would do if he stayed there any longer, already feeling uncomfortable. Unsure if he could hear footsteps coming from behind, he unsteadily turned way and took the third path, uncaring if the man planned on saying anything. Ed turned another corner, cutting himself off from Breda's view. He couldn't be certain if he was being followed, or if his ears were being tricked by the rain and thunder.

He had to find somewhere to hide. If Mustang, Havoc and Breda were around, then the others were probably not far off. He felt like a mouse running around a maze. They were all circling the area, waiting to round him in like cattle. Well, he wasn't going to play their game anymore.

Edward turned another thin corner between the compact buildings and felt a jolt of trepidation as he recognized the dead end, populated only by locked doors and trash bins. Except before he could panic, he noticed a door at the end of the path was strangely ajar. All of the lights in that particular building were off, from that he could tell. He didn't love the idea of sneaking into other people's property, but drastic times called for drastic measures.

With a careful glance behind him, Edward jogged towards the door, and slowed to a walk as he nearly tripped over his own feet. The alchemist looked back the way he came once more and saw a flash of darkness, which he could only assume was the shadow of someone approaching around the corner.

He bit down on is lip and tentatively opened the door further and peeked inside to see a clean modern kitchen. He stepped inside the home, not daring to turn the lights on, as he quietly closed the door behind him. Ed was reminded that he was dripping wet when his shoes squeaked on the polished wooden floor and his clothes left a puddle under his feet.

This was a terrible idea. But he'd rather deal with a random civilian than face off against Mustang. Despite the darkness outside, it was too early for anyone to be sleeping, so he had to assume that the owners were out. But if they didn't want people walking into their home, then they shouldn't have left their back door open.

Regardless, the question remained: should he find the front door and try to escape, or wait it out until Mustang's team left? But that would also give them the chance to find him. Except they couldn't break in without a search warrant, and there was no way they came that prepared. Hopefully.

Edward couldn't be bothered to continue the thought process for more than five seconds before realizing that he was far too tired to move another step at the moment. Sure, remaining in the townhouse may had been slighting illegal, but he was already running from the military; what difference did it make?

The blond took several uncertain steps forward, carefully maneuvering himself through the dark, unfamiliar room. He could see the outlines of the walls, counters and what he assumed to be a table as he slowly crossed the kitchen floor. Was there any point to checking out the rest of the house? He would likely lose all vision if he lost the trifling amount of light that was offered through the windows.

Not feeling very adventurous, Edward slowly inched towards the table to take a seat. But before he could reach it, a cold gust of wind swept into the room and sent a harsh shiver down his back.

"Breaking into people's homes now, Fullmetal?"

Edward froze to the spot as he automatically turned towards the deep, painfully famialir voice. Colonel Mustang stood in the doorway, silhouetted by a well-timed flash of lighting.

_How the hell...?_

The young alchemist felt his body shudder against his will as the fight slowly drained out of him. Something told him that this was where it all ended. There was no where else to run. He would get lost in the strange house if he tried, and stood no chance against Mustang to begin with in his current state.

He scoffed mirthlessly, not bothering to crack a spiteful grin. "You're no better than me, apparently."

"Actually I am," Mustang answered easily with a confident air about him, "seeing as this is my house."

Edward's breath was caught in his lungs as he was stunned by surprise, yet lacked the energy to properly display it. He was in Roy Mustang's house!? Now that he mentioned it, the earthy scent in the home, mixed with a hint of smoke and the man's cologne did smell familiar.

Ed's eyes darted from side to side, in search of a convenient escape route in spite of his sorry condition.

"Don't you dare move, Fullmetal," Mustang barked, pointing a demanding finger at the alchemist.

Oh shit, he was angry.

But then again, when was Ed ever one to care about that? "Why don't you just handcuff me now and get it over with, then?" he smiled grimly as he took a hesitant step backwards in the darkness.

Mustang didn't say anything at first, but just gave the blond a hard stare. He tried not to squirm uncomfortably under the weight of his glare as the colonel flipped on a light switch and closed the door behind him once more, trapping the rain and thunder outside.

A lamp above the kitchen table turned on, filling the room with a warm, brown light that wasn't as blindingly stark as Ed predicted. For whatever reason, he was expecting to suddenly find himself in an interrogation setting.

Leaving a trail of dripping water in his wake, the colonel took several decisive steps forward, causing Edward to take just as many steps backwards until he hit the wall. It was too much to hope that a door would have conveniently been there instead, it seemed.

The older man stopped with his arms tensely as his sides, expression unreadable as he scrutinized the kid before him. Until finally; "I have information regarding Riece that you may be interested in hearing."

Ed's scrambling mind had to pull on the breaks, then turn around. Riece? Mustang said he would look into the name, but he didn't actually expect to hear anything about it. He didn't expect Mustang to follow through. And he decided to bring it up now of all times? But nonetheless, he was too interested not to ask.

"... What?"

Mustang had the nerve to crack that stupid arrogant smirk that Edward had quickly learned to acquaint with the annoying colonel. "Oh, I'll tell you," he began, and the smile soon vanished without a trace. "But before I do, I have a few things to say to you, and if you have any sense at all, then you damn well better listen up."

Edward paused and blinked, unsure how to respond. Mustang took his silence for an invitation to continue, and promptly cleared his throat. He surprised the teenager further when his cold, dark eyes softened slightly in the warm light.

"First of all-" he took a breath. "-I apologize for the incident at the inn. While I have no intention to arrest you, I still have to act as if I do. The only reason I sent people there is to avoid suspicion, and because I didn't expect that you would have actually been there."

Mustang was... apologizing? To  _him?_ Ed was certain that Hell just froze over.

He quickly covered up his shock and narrowed his heavy eyes. "An apology doesn't do me much good now, does it?" He muttered, still upset over having to spend the past night sleeping on the street.

"Don't think for a second that I'm not willing to take responsibility for this. It's painfully obvious that you haven't been getting any of the basic human necessities lately; sleep, food, clean clothes," he trailed off, reminding Edward that his stomach had been empty for the entire day. Throughout the past week, dealing with hunger was easier than braving the outside world in search for food, so he had nearly forgotten about his growling stomach. "Which is why I led you here."

"... What?" Edward repeated, mind spinning. Once the idea came to the front of his mind, it became all too easy to see. Of course he was led there. The convenient placement of Havoc and Breda, how each intersection only gave him one choice, and the open door. If he was more awake and aware, Ed was certain that he would have noticed. That bastard probably knew that too. He saw a weakness and took advantage of it.

He stared blankly at the man, feeling control slip through his fingers. But then again, he hasn't really had any control in far too long anyway. But now that he was really looking, there was... something else in those black eyes besides the stone cold demeanor. If he had to give it a name, then perhaps... Uncertainty? Concern? Worry?

Except, Mustang and  _worry_  did not go together, last he checked. Actually, none of those words fit him. And yet, something was there, staring back at him, leaving him unsure how to proceed.

Mustang's expression loosened as his stare softened dramatically, as if he gave up on keeping the mask on. It wasn't quite pity, but it some something very close.

"So," Mustang drawled in an unfamiliar fashion that suggested apprehension. "I have decided that you'll be staying here until further notice."

 _Hold on. What. Wait. Hold... what?_ Edward had to take the older man's words and turn them around in his head, but still failed to make sense of them. He must have heard wrong, because the alternative simply wasn't possible. "Wait... What?" This was turning out to be a very one-sided conversation.

"You heard me," the colonel replied sternly, his gaze hardening slightly. "You'll be staying here for now."

Ed's mind paused and became blank, until he burst into a weak, yet uncontrollably gaspish laughter. He was suddenly very glad for the solid wall behind him, as it kept him from falling to the ground. It was hilarious. It sounded like the beginning of a bad joke; Colonel Mustang invited the Fullmetal Alchemist to stay the night. Were they going to tell ghost stories and make hot chocolate too?

Edward rubbed his face as the laughter decreased until it died from his lips completely, oblivious of the Flame Alchemist's glare. Despite his apparent amusement with the concept, there was also something very, very, not-funny about the entire situation. In actuality, it was all far too grave for the kid to bare any longer, so what else could he do but laugh?

Edward once heard somewhere that fools can only laugh once they have been backed into a corner. How terribly fitting.

To think that his sad appearance was enough to convince Roy Mustang to open up his home... Ed never thought he would see the day. He must have looked dead on his feet. He didn't feel too far off, anyway.

"Are you quite done?" the man asked coolly, annoyance radiating off of him in waves.

Ed felt a wry smile pull at his lips, but he nodded regardless. His gaze fell to the floor between his and Mustang's feet, unable to do anything else.

"I hope you don't plan on arguing, because this is a direct order, Fullmetal." He stopped for a beat, allowing Ed room to talk if he chose to. He remained silent. "I'm going to fix this," Mustang continued in a gentler tone that caused Ed's eyes to travel back up to him, almost in disbelief. " I'm going to fix this, but you need to have some faith in me."

He was doing it again. He was trying to trick Ed into believing that he actually cared like a human being.

Edward scoffed spitefully, putting absolutely no thought into his words when they automatically spilled out of his mouth as if they had a mind of their own. "That's coming from the person who set up an elaborate trap just to get me here. I can't believe anything you say because you'll just turn around and do shit like this! None of this is really about me, is it? This all just apart of your grab for power. Nothing else matters to you!"

That was it, wasn't it? Edward's presence in the office was a benefit to the ambitious colonel. He needed the gifted, young protege that he had so heroically scouted to make him look good. If something that valuable was broken, then someone had to fix it, or throw it away.

The colonel watched him calmly, only causing to irritate Ed further as the apprehension began to eat at him. Finally, the man released a cooling exhale through his nose and briefly closed his eyes, as if he was trying to calm himself down.

"You seem to have this delusion that I'm completely heartless. But I have  _always_  taken care of my own. As my subordinate, that includes you, even if you're wanted by the state," he said, pointing sternly at the kid. "Don't think for a second that I don't care about the people around me." His sharp, solid tone left no room for argument as he announced with a confidence akin to speaking a universal fact.

The scowl on Edward's visage fell slightly, unsure if he could bring himself to believe the older alchemist's words. "That... that doesn't make any sense. How could you say that when it's your job to bring in criminals?" he balked, almost accusingly.

"You're not a criminal, Edward."

The blond felt his limbs grow stiff as he was overwhelmed by a conglomeration of emotions and thoughts, unable to make sense of any of them. This didn't make any sense. This didn't quite fit with the image of Mustang that he had for the past three years, and he simply didn't know how to deal with that.

Unless... How could he ever really know when Mustang was telling the truth? That man was unreadable, and had never been above lying in the slightest. No regret, no remorse; he could talk anyone in circles and feel not an ounce of shame. Call him paranoid, but if Ed couldn't be sure, then he couldn't risk it.

A glare replaced his look of confusion as he dared to return the colonel's cool gaze. "After all you've done, why the hell should I believe a word you say?"

His carefully crafted glower swiftly gave way to something that he would not acknowledge as fear when something flickered in the man's eyes. He closed the gap between them and towered over the blond like an impassible wall. Ed pressed himself closer to the wall, frozen to the spot as he found himself unable to move or even look away as Mustang's shadow engulfed him. His dark eyes effortlessly pierced through Ed's defenses, nearly glowing with a determined frustration.

"Because you have  _nothing else!"_

Edward's blood turn cold in his veins, running into every corner of his body and chilling him to the bone. He couldn't deny it. He couldn't even pretend to deny it and hide behind blissful ignorance. Mustang's words were simply too accurate.

Because Mustang was right; he had nothing.

"I'm not a fool; I know that Alphonse is missing," he continued with a cold tone that ordered Edward to keep his mouth shut. He felt his hands curl into fists at his sides while Mustang threw all of the thoughts that he had been stubbornly avoiding straight into his face.

"You're falling apart, Edward. You're afraid and alone and you need help." Ed flinched harshly as he felt two strong hands land on his shoulders, keeping him from collapsing despite their weight. "And I  _will_  help, regardless of what you think you want! You can't do this alone anymore."

Edward stood there against the wall, completely motionless, not daring to do so much as breath. Mustang was right in front of him, yet he could no longer bring himself to meet the man's eyes. This couldn't have been the same person who he had been working under the past few years. A small whisper in his mind still expected him to laugh and say  _just kidding_  like it was all some cruel joke. But he wasn't joking... he was serious. Ed could feel it in his voice; it reverberated with an intense, undeniable sincerity that he wasn't prepared to face.

He felt like had just been slapped with a fact that he had been ignorantly avoiding for far too long. His head throbbed and he felt his heart beating in his chest as his mind spun in circles. It should have been an effortless task to just disregard the man's words and make things easier on himself. And yet, it didn't seem that simple anymore. For once in his experience, there wasn't an ounce of deceit or ulterior motives in Mustang's stare. Ed was incapable of ignoring the stern, painfully obvious truth that was thrown directly at him.

He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to break the silence before it devoured him whole. "A-and what if this is all some trap?" He didn't know what else to say, but doubt still remained so he might as well call it out. But then again, doubt and reluctance could often feel very similar.

Mustang's hands lowered from his shoulders, forcing his legs to carry the burden once more. They shook underneath him, but held out due to sheer stubbornness. He knelt down to Ed's level with a faint, wry smile.

"Don't flatter yourself, shrimp. I wouldn't go through all of this just to arrest you." Despite the situation, Ed felt a burning anger fume familiarly just underneath the surface. He was really going to make fun of his height now?!

And yet, there was a sense of relief to it as well.

"I'm not short, you two-faced bastard," he growled, wondering if it would be a bad time to sock him in the face.

"But I would go through all of that if it meant getting you off the streets." The smile on Mustang's face faded as he swiftly returned the previously serious air back into the room. "You need to at least give this a shot. If I give you any reason not to trust me, then you'll be free to leave."

The blond bit down on his lip in contemplation. He would be lying to himself if he said that he didn't want to believe what Mustang was saying. He wanted to believe that he was safe and things weren't as grim as they seemed. He wanted to believe that he wasn't completely alone. However, it just seemed too good to be true. But he wasn't really given the choice. He could either agree to cooperate, or not. There was no saying what would happen if he tried to refuse. For all he knew, Mustang could just shrug it off and force him anyway, or he could decide that it was too much trouble and throw him in a cell. The latter was admittedly feeling less likely now, but it wasn't impossible, was it?

That's right; he had no choice in the matter. Which meant that no one would blame him if he stayed. For a moment, he almost felt relieved that the choice wasn't really up to him, but he quickly squashed that thought.

Then again, that would include living under the same roof as Mustang for an undefined amount of time. The sound of it seemed quite destructive, to say the least. The more he contemplated the idea, the more horrifying it sounded. Living with Roy Mustang? Hell no.

But that wasn't the point. The only parts of the deal that mattered were shelter from the rain, a place to sleep that wasn't a hole in the wall, food, and maybe, just maybe, a stronger sense of security. While the concept had some serious faults, Ed was beginning to think that the pros could truly outweigh the cons. Besides, Mustang said he could leave if it came down to it. Assuming that he wasn't just being a lying bastard, then Edward would be crazy to reject the offer.

"... Kay."

As if on cue, the colonel's shoulders slumped as a great weight had been taken off of them. "Great," he breathed and rose to stand up straight with a weary smile.

"And what about Riece?" Ed added quickly before he could forget. 

"Right," he began as his brow furrowed in thought for a moment. He glanced around towards the back door. "I have to do something first. I'll be right back; stay put." With that said, the older man hastily left the kitchen and went back outside into the rain.

Edward blinked and waited a beat before walking up to the door. He looked out the window that was right next to it, above the counter, and was just barely able to see Mustang standing in the alley, facing away. It looked like he was talking to someone, but he couldn't see who without sticking his entire head out the door. He then scrambled back towards the door and cracked it open. He could hear the mummers of conversation through the rain and strained his ears to make the words out.

". . . he's go- . . . . out of . . . reach now . . . ."

" . . . so . . . plan failed . . .?" The second voice sounded feminine; Hawkeye perhaps?

Edward saw a dark flash across his vision and figured Mustang was coming back now, so he hurried back to his spot against the wall before he could hear the man's reply, nearly slipping on the smooth surface. It was hard to know for sure, but it seemed like Mustang really was covering for him. And even the rest of the team didn't know... He was apparently taking that promise he made back around the cafe very seriously.

Weird.

It took several more seconds than expected, but the colonel eventually walked back into the townhouse, dripping with rain water once more. "So, getting back to business," he began swiftly, likely trying to divert Ed's thought away from his little trip outside. "I searched the name Riece in the military records."

Edward held his breath again in anticipation. He was finally going to get some information on the illusive man. He wasn't going to be left with nothing anymore. He was going to get closer to finding Alphonse!"

"And what I found is... that there are no records of anyone named Reice that match your description."

Edward's expression fell into a deadpan glare. "... That's it?" Mustang nodded easily. "All that you have is that you don't have anything?!"

"Hey, it's apparently more than you have. Besides, I told you that I had information," the man said, raising his hands up innocently. "I didn't say that it was  _good_ information."

Ed felt his eye twitch. "You're a bastard."

Mustang simply huffed in amusement, noting a lack of malice behind the common insult. "But I'm a bastard with food, dry clothes, and a roof. That said, ..." he trailed off and made his way across the kitchen and into an archway that led into another room, which Ed had not noticed before within the darkness. He flipped another light on, revealing what appeared to be a living room. The teenager made to follow out of curiosity before Mustang told him not to move; something about tracking water all over his floors.

Edward was left alone is Mustang's kitchen, dripping wet as thunder rumbled in the background. He certainly didn't think this was how the day would go when the sun rose behind the clouds that morning. In spite of everything, part of Ed's mind was incredibly reluctant to stay there. He had the perfect opportunity to run out the back door in that moment, assuming the rest of the team wasn't waiting outside for whatever reason.

And yet, Mustang had a point; if he intended to truly arrest him, then it wouldn't make sense to go through so much trouble just to trick him. But nonetheless, Ed was still left flabbergasted by the entire situation. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. He didn't recognize the man who had just walked back into the kitchen with a fluffy towel in hand.

Edward didn't realize he had spaced out until his vision was overtaken by a dark gray from the towel that now draped around his head. He pulled it down and stared accusingly at Mustang.

"You could have just handed it to me."

"I tried," Mustang answered slowly with a hint of concern lacing his tone as he looked at the kid questionable.

"What? No you didn't. I saw you come in, and then you just threw it at me," the blond huffed, gesturing to the long piece of fabric in his hand for emphasis.

Mustang stared at him blankly for several long seconds. After a moment, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "... You don't remember?"

"Remember what?" He snapped.

"I just told you to dry off before walking around, and held the towel right in front of your face."

Edward blinked at the colonel. "No you didn't," he answered, digging into his memory. Mustang didn't say a thing to him until after the towel ended up on his head. It literally just happened; he would have remembered.

"Yes, I did," the older alchemist insisted as worry began to crease through his features. " And you just stared straight at me."

"Wha-" Ed stammered for a moment, feeling as if he had somehow slipped into an alternate reality when he wasn't paying attention. He opened his mouth to continue after getting a better grasp on his spiraling thoughts, but was promptly cut off.

"When was the last time you got a full night's sleep?"

"Uh... Assuming a  _full night_ means eight hours... then, I don't remember."

Mustang curled his lip. "Alright," he drawled. "When was the last time you got  _any_ sleep?"

The teenager furrowed his brow, knowing that this wasn't looking good for him. But he had accidentally crawled too deep into a hole to bother with denial. "Yesterday morning?" he answered, still fuzzy regarding the night he spent on the street. He was in a strange, dazed void between unconsciousness and consciousness, unable to remember anything besides the fact that it was hell.

Mustang frowned as his eyes narrowed, radiating with disapproval. "Hurry up and dry off so I can show you to the guest room. You need to get some rest," he ordered sternly, then gestured to Ed's dripping raincoat until he got the hint.

The teenager gingerly removed the soaked fabric and handed it over to the colonel, who immediately took it into another another room besides the kitchen, likely to hang it somewhere to dry.

Meanwhile, Edward slung the towel around his shoulders to let it seep up the water in his hair. Once again, he was left alone in his superior officer's kitchen, wondering yet again how this managed to happen.

He hoped he wouldn't regret this.


	7. Chapter 7

Roy's eyes flickered open and he stared up at the ceiling as the cool morning light seeped through his curtains. He didn't want to be awake already for too many reasons to count. With a discontent groan, he rolled over to his side and buried his face in the pillow to keep the stubborn light out.

After several minutes of tossing and turning, Roy glared blankly at his wall, knowing that he had already lost that battle. There was no getting back to sleep at that point; especially not when he knew that a new, daunting reality waited for him just outside the safety of his room.

Edward Elric was just across the hall. The Fullmetal Alchemist, the kid who had been looking for for over a week now, was in his house.

Roy could barely believe that it actually worked. He almost thought it was nothing more than a dream. That would have made more sense.

He had known that he needed to come up with a way to keep an eye on Ed, but Roy didn't think to invite him into his home until he noticed how nearby the kid had conveniently gotten the day before. Once he managed to convince the blond to stay, then he could work on getting the full truth out of him. But that's not to say that his motives were purely opportunistic; Roy was equally interested in getting the boy off the rain ridden streets for Ed's own sake as well. Remaining out there to fend for himself would do no favors for his physical and mental health. As his subordinate, Roy couldn't allow it to continue if there was something- anything- he could do about it. And quite frankly, he was concerned.

But after last night, how could he  _not_ be?

Mustang rolled onto his back and absentminded combed his bangs away from his face with his fingers. He closed his eyes as the images that had been engraved into his mind from the night before returned to him.

The pounding rain eclipsed by the blinding strikes of lighting through the window, and Fullmetal cornered like a skittish cat as his own shadow engulfed the boy's gaunt figure.

Edward looked terrified when Roy first got his attention after following him into the kitchen. That frightened, shaken expression nearly put the colonel at pause, but he had just narrowly managed to keep his face neutral. That fear contradicted everything he knew about the blond. It was so incredibly un-Ed-like that he had to constantly remind himself of just who he was looking at. It proved how drastic the situation truly was- and how desperate Ed had truly become.

While he was lecturing the kid, he occasionally noticed flashed of anger. It wasn't the usual Elric brand of irritation either; it was much more heated and direct. But that anger would get snuffed out so easily when he said the right words the right way- as if he shook Edward out of something that he couldn't control. It had to be because of the lack of sleep. There was no other way to explain how he acted last night. If Fullmetal had gone 48 hours without any rest, then it was perfectly understandable for him to be nervous, paranoid, and lacking control over his emotions. That would also explain his reluctance to believe the colonel's words.

The inner turmoil in those young, tired eyes was painfully evident. Roy was almost able to hear the mental argument he was having with himself when the older man told him to trust him. But despite his doubts, it seemed that it turned out for the best. The teenager eventually agreed, which Roy hoped to be a sign that he was beginning to open up to the Flame Alchemist again. He almost wanted to believe that he saw something click in those golden eyes just before he decided to stay.

But nonetheless, after all the work he went through just to get the kid here, he failed the properly consider the aftermath.

Because now he had to experience the joy of actually living in the same house as Edward Elric. If it was the impulsive, hot-headed blond that he was used to, then he could manage. It would be infuriating and he would predict that his house would not survive the week, but he would at least know what to expect.

But the frightened, sleep deprived boy who slipped into his kitchen like a drowned animal was a different matter entirely. Roy hoped that getting some decent sleep somewhere that wasn't outside or in a dingy inn would return some life into the blond, but he somehow doubted that it would be that simple.

Roy craned his neck towards the small clock on the nightstand and glared at the ticking device until he managed to read that it was almost eight o'clock. On any normal day, he would have promptly scrambled out of bed to get ready for work, but today was no normal day; all thanks to the Fullmetal Alchemist.

With a deep, assuring breath, Mustang climbed out his bed and went over to his bathroom to turn on the shower. As he waited for the water to heat up, he caught his own gaze in the mirror. He pursed lip as he stared heavily at himself, wondering if he made the right choice. But what other choice did he have? He couldn't break his promise to Edward by telling the team about him, so they were out of the picture. He couldn't have stuck the young alchemist in a hotel or at someone else's house either. As for anywhere else, he simply wouldn't dare risk it. No, this was truly his only option.

He just hoped that he wasn't taking more on than he could handle...

But of course not; that was ridiculous. Roy had known Edward for over three years now. While Fullmetal was certainly going through a lot at the moment, that did not change anything. Mustang had already given the boy his solid word that he would do whatever he could to fix whatever was broken, no matter the difficulties that were to follow.

And damn it, he was going to follow through!

The steaming water helped to clear his mind to some degree, but it failed to calm his nerves completely. He would continue to feel a creeping sense of anxiety as the impending conversation with Edward drew closer, but Roy was certain that there was nothing to be nervous about. Edward was just a kid. A kid who had been wrongly accused of murder, but a kid nonetheless. He was a victim who needed the colonel's help.

With the distracting company of his thoughts, Roy finished his shower, shaved, and got dressed in a matter of minutes. Seeing as he wasn't planning on going to the office today, he put on something casual at random and only spent a few seconds fixing his hair.

Lacking any other menial tasks to keep him distracted, Mustang quietly stepped out of his room and into the hallway. His eyes immediately fell on the guest room's door, which was on the opposing side of the hall and to the left, next to the second bathroom.

There wasn't a single sound to be heard in the house, besides the steady drizzling, the gentle hum of the air conditioner, and Roy's own breathing. Hoping that Edward was still catching up on his much-needed sleep, he continued down the staircase and into the living room, then turned into the kitchen.

Roy scanned over the room, failing to remember why he came down there until his focus landed on the phone. He leaned against the counter and dialed a memorized number into it, listening to it ring twice before the call was answered.  _"Colonel Mustang's office,"_  Hawkeye vigilantly began on the other end.

Roy loudly cleared his throat. "Good morning, Lieutenant. I'm calling to inform you that I won't be coming into work today. It seems I've come down with a cold," he supplied in the carefully crafted tone of a superior officer.

_"I'm sorry to hear that. This isn't just an excuse to get out of paperwork, is it, sir?"_

"Not entirely," he answered lightheartedly, allowing a small smile to pull at his lips.

 _"I see,"_  the blonde mused. _"Did you catch something in the rain last night?"_

Roy's smile widened into a grin. Hawkeye was just as perceptive as always, it seemed. "Yes, I did."

There was a brief pause, in which Roy began to wonder if that minuscule hint was too much information to allow.  _"You should be more careful with your health, sir. Your paperwork will be waiting when you return to work."_

The alchemist opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat when he thought about getting behind in paperwork again. It wasn't daunting enough to make him consider changing his mind, but he feared it all the same.

When the only reply Riza got in return was an exaggerated, disheartened sigh, she continued.  _"We'll take care of things here. Please focus on getting better, Colonel."_

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

After saying their goodbyes, Roy hung up the phone and exhaled deeply. Hawkeye already knew that he wasn't planning on going to the office today; he had told her last night after briefly talking to Ed, but he still called to make it official and to tie up lose ends. He was fairly certain that she would complete the official procedures for him as well.

Last night, he simply told her to relay to the team that Ed had gotten out of their reach. It was vague and maybe even a little cheesy, but the team would likely assume that he meant Fullmetal had escaped. While he took no pleasure in misleading the others in that way, he did so anyway because he knew it would be temporary. They would understand once they knew the whole truth. Besides; he wouldn't have been surprised if Ed had tried to overhear his conversation with Hawkeye when he left the kitchen, so he took the opportunity to show the kid yet again that he wasn't tricking him.

But when Hawkeye asked to clarify that the plan had failed, he couldn't refrain from dropping the first hint. He could barely keep the victorious smile off of his face when he basically told her that the plan was actually a success. At the time, he was just so glad that he got Ed to agree to stay to think too far beyond that.

However, the lieutenant clearly picked up on the fact that something else was going on behind the scenes. She likely had her own assumptions, but knew that whatever it was, Roy must have had a damn good reason for keeping it from even her.

Another plus to playing sick is that he was free to continue it for another day, if necessary. But that all depended on how today went.

He would have to discuss the entire situation with Edward soon.

Speaking of Ed, Roy briefly considering waking him up to see if he had any preferences on breakfast, but quickly shot that idea down. The kid needed as much sleep as possible. He supposed that eggs would have to do.

But the more he thought about Fullmetal, the more doubts began to form. For all he knew, Ed decided to jump out the window in the middle of the night and make a break for it. It was awfully quiet when he walked by the room...

But of course it was quiet. Fullmetal was supposed to be  _sleeping._ How much noise could be possibly make in his sleep?

But that alone wasn't enough to assume that he simply didn't run away.

... There was really only one way to know.

He put far too much time and effort into getting the kid into his house in the first place; he wasn't going to risk letting his work go to waste just because Ed may or may not have gotten cold feet. He had to be sure. He had to know.

Internally reproving his impulsive actions, Roy traveled up the staircase until he reached the guest room. He stared at it for a beat, before decisively and calmly knocking on the wood surface.

No response. He listened carefully through the door, not hearing a single sound come from the other side.

That was fine. He was just sleeping.

However, Edward had been acting rather unpredictably lately.

With only a moment of hesitation, Roy tentatively tested the doorknob to find that it was unlocked. Usually, he would at least use his voice to warn the kid that he was entering, but if he was sleeping, he didn't want to wake him up. Mustang slowly pushed it open just far enough to peek inside. He just had to make sure that Edward was still there. That was all.

Except once he confirmed that, the older alchemist couldn't just turn around and walk out.

Ed was sitting up against the headboard with his arms loosely wrapped around himself. He head was down, obscuring his eyes with his blond bangs. The sheets were in disarray, telling Roy that he at least tried getting under them like a normal person, but crawled at at some point during the night.

The colonel couldn't imagine how the kid found that to be a preferable position. He could almost feel his own back ache just by watching him sleep like that.

Waking Fullmetal up to ask him about breakfast would be a good excuse to shake him out of that seemingly painful position. It would bother him all morning if he didn't do anything, and would likely cause Ed to act more difficult once he woke with a knot in his back.

Clearly, he had no other choice but to do something about it. That would be the right thing to do.

Obviously.

Roy quietly approached the blond, then paused. He was struck with just how strange it was to see Edward Elric in his guest room. He never fathomed that there was so much as a possibility of Fullmetal stepping anywhere near his house. But now, he was occupying the large bed, almost drowning in the size of it.

The Flame Alchemist had to take a moment just to remind himself that it was all real; that this wasn't just a vivid dream. His youngest subordinate who had been accused of murder and missing for over a week was sitting right in front of him.

Life could be very strange in that way.

He pushed the thought aside so he could focus on the task at hand. How does one go about waking up a teenager in the first place?

Roy decided to wing it.

"Hey," he began, breaking the crisp silence. "Fullmetal; wake up." Just before he moved to nudge the blond on the shoulder, he bent down to look at the kid's eyes, hoping to see some consciousness blink into them. However, what he saw caused both his mind and the blood in his veins to freeze.

Ed wasn't asleep, but he wasn't quite awake either. His eyes stared down at his legs, appearing glassy and distant. If it wasn't for the slight rise and fall of his chest, then the older alchemist would have thought him to be dead. Apprehension tightened around his chest as and Roy placed a sturdy hand on the kid's shoulder.

"Edward!" He called and gave him a gentle shake. Fullmetal jumped back into life with a sharp gasp and his startled eyes darted towards the colonel. He instinctively brought his legs up to his chest and his hands rose up in front of himself defensively, quickly brushing Roy's hand away.

As Roy slowly lowered his arm, startled by the kid's abrupt reaction, understanding slowly took over Ed's expression as he began to calm down. He watched the colonel carefully, waiting for him to say something. The air filled with a nervous, tense silence, broken only by the interminable rainfall outside the window.

Just as Roy had feared, Ed's eyes were still frantic and slightly bloodshot, and his hands shivered tremulously against his control.

"Are you alright?" He asked evenly once Fullmetal's breathing slowed to a reasonable pace.

The blond blinked at him and allowed the stillness to stretch on for several seconds too long. "Yeah," he answered hoarsely, then cleared his throat. "I'm fine."

Roy didn't believe him for a second, but continued on regardless. "Did you manage to get  _any_  sleep last night?" he pried, narrowing his eyes as he examined the kid's sorry appearance.

Edward broke eye contact and absentmindedly scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, some."

The older man exhaled slowly through his nose. Getting decent answers out of Fullmetal was like pulling teeth. "What are the chances that you could still get more sleep this morning?"

"Zero," he replied flatly. His initial alarm had completely disappeared and was replaced by traces of annoyance. "Did you just come in here to nag me about my sleep patterns?"

Mustang had to bite his tongue to refrain from commenting on his  _nonexistent_  sleep patterns. "No, actually. Do you like eggs?" He asked, fighting to keep the edge out of his voice. He decided not to mention his thoughts regarding Edward's possible escape altogether. It wouldn't do either of them any good.

The mild anger was swiftly swallowed up by surprise. Ed stared at him for a moment, nonplussed, before uttering a weak response. "Uh... Yeah."

"Alright," Roy breathed as he turned on his heel and walked back to the open door. Before stepping out, he stopped himself with a hand on the door frame and looked back at the blond. "Breakfast will be ready soon. The restroom is on the left, if you need it," he supplied, despite being aware that he already told Ed that fact last night. It couldn't hurt to remind him.

As soon as the boy managed a small nod, the colonel left the room and turned down the stairs.

Once he reached the last step, Roy warily rubbed his eyes and blindly maneuvered into the kitchen, knowing the floor plan by heart.

This was going to be challenging.

He got to work on preparing breakfast, willing himself to keep from over-thinking things in the process. He impulsively decided to throw some bacon on the stove, as well as drop a few pieces of bread into the toaster. The kid needed to eat more anyway, and eggs alone were not very substantial.

By the time Roy began pulling two plates from one of the cabinets, the scent of food became strong enough to lure Edward out of his room. He watched the younger alchemist out of the corner of his eye as he prepared the meals. The blond's hair looked slightly damp and loosely pulled back, telling the colonel that he had taken a quick shower. The sound of the water must have gotten lost in the rain.

Ed stood underneath the archway and took in the kitchen as if he was looking at it for the first time. He was probably too tired and distracted to really examine the room last night.

Roy tried to keep his house as clean as possible and his kitchen was a good example of his efforts. Years of military training drilled the concept of cleaning one's own space into him quite effectively. The dark, rectangular wooden table in the center of the open space was clear of clutter or stains, as well as the island counter top. Everything had its own, neat spot within the many dark brown cupboards that lined the walls.

After Fullmetal finished looking over the room itself, his focus transferred over to Roy, who timely brought his own attention back to the food. He walked over to the refrigerator as the young alchemist slowly moved to the table and chose a chair at random.

"Want anything to drink?" The Colonel asked, glancing over his shoulder. The kid looked like he felt incredibly uncomfortable and out of place.

"'M fine," he replied a little too quickly.

"You sure? Don't want any water, orange juice, milk," he trailed off, smirking victoriously when he was targeted with an annoyed glare. When it became apparent that the teenager had no plans on replying, Roy eventually decided to get him a glass of water anyway.

He brought the plates and glasses over and sat down opposed from the small blond. They primary ate in silence.

Ed, however, took a few normal bites into the meal, before continuing to wolf the rest of it down. It was a refreshing sight, really. He was glad to know that the kid hadn't been turned off of food as well for whatever reason. Of course, that didn't seem like a possibility anyway, but Ed wasn't quite acting like himself in general, so one could never be too sure. It would just be Roy's luck to expect one problem, only to get bombarded with multiple problems to deal with all at once.

As soon as they both finished their meals, Roy surprised Ed again by promptly standing up and taking their plates to the sink as the kid offered a small, awkward thanks. As he washed them off with his back turned away from the blond, he felt Fullmetal's eyes on him.

"So," Edward began after several quiet seconds. "What now?"

Well, that was as good of a segue as any, he supposed. Roy dried his hands off with a rag and slowly moved back towards the table, wondering the very same question. What now, indeed.

"Well," he drawled as he sat down at the table again, fingers automatically interlacing with his elbows propped up on the surface. "We should probably discuss the situation." He looked past his hands to Edward, who watched him with hesitant, nervous expression.

"Why?" Ed knew exactly what he was referring to, and didn't seem overly fond of the idea, judging by the way his shoulders stiffened.

Roy furrowed his brow, wondering yet again why the kid was so against talking. He could understand that whatever happened could possibly be difficult to talk about, maybe even traumatic, but surely Ed knew that it had to be done. It was the only way to solve the case and get the weight off his back.

"You can't keep bottling it up, Fullmetal. You need to get this off your chest, or else it'll just keep holding you back."

Edward bit his lip as he stared blankly at the table. "I know that, but," he trailed off while his eyes darkened as an war raged on inside. He opened and closed his mouth but it looked like the words were physically painful to get out.

His fists curled around the dark gray fabric of the shirt Roy had lent him. It was too small for the colonel, so he never wore it, but it still managed to drape around the blond's small frame like a blanket. "I didn't want anyone to get involved," he finally muttered.

Roy remained quiet for a moment, deciding that saying  _too bad_ in response wasn't the best course of action. He knew there was much more hidden behind the kid's words and took a moment to let it sink in. After a few soundless seconds, Roy exhaled slowly. " I know that you don't want to trust anyone," he began, lowering his hands to the table as he failed to catch Ed's eyes. "But you trusted me to keep your secret about the taboo; you can trust me to keep this as well," he insisted wholeheartedly as Edward just glared at the table. "I can't prove your innocence until I know what happened."

While he hoped that his words would convince Fullmetal to open up, they had the opposite effect instead. The blond shrunk lower into his chair as something dark flickered across his visage before he quickly forced it away.

It almost looked like guilt.

Havoc's words echoed in his head:

 _He didn't look like himself at all. He looked so… guilty._ He refused to even consider the lieutenant's words at the time, but Roy now saw what he was talking about.

_What if he really did cause Tresler's death somehow?_

But no, that just wasn't possible. Well, it could had been an accident, but even that wasn't good enough. Roy didn't want Edward to have anything to do with the death. Perhaps he was being stubborn, but the thought that Fullmetal could be involved was- was... He didn't know what it was, but he didn't like it.

The colonel shooed Havoc out of his mind when Edward opened his mouth.

"I- I can't," he finally forced the words out through his teeth.

Roy watched him carefully for another moment as the need for answers quietly ate away at him. This was no time to pull rank on the kid either, or else he'd risk chasing him away or shutting down completely. Besides, if this was bothering Fullmetal so much, then he didn't want to go about it that way.

"Why?" He asked, ignoring the desperate strain that he could almost hear in his own voice.

Edward looked up to meet his gaze for the first time since he sat down, allowing the older man to see the turmoil that clearly fought in his golden eyes. "I... I can't tell you," he finally replied and bit into his lip again as he watched the colonel with nervous apprehension.

Roy considered him for a moment, taking in all he could from the kid's expression while he had the chance. He was almost glad to see how difficult it was for Ed to refuse to speak, because that just told him that he was almost convinced.

"Fine," Roy eventually said lightly as he leaned back in his chair, not missing the way Ed's shoulders relaxed slightly from relief and his eyes widened in mild surprise. "But I'm not giving up so easily." He allowed a wary smile to sneak onto his face in hopes of calming the boy down somewhat, but he also hoped that Ed picked up on the full meaning behind his words.

A moment went by when neither of them said anything. Edward was the first to break it as he slowly began to rise from his chair. "I'm gonna, uh, go back to the room," he said quietly, unsure if he should ask permission or just go. Roy simply nodded, silently telling him not to worry about it.

As Ed started to step away from the chair, he tripped and his legs gave out underneath him. An alarm went off in Roy's head as he watched the blond fall from the other side of the table. A loud bang echoed through the room when Ed automatically slammed his automail arm onto the table to keep himself from falling onto the ground

Roy quickly rounded the table and hovered nearby, unsure if the kid needed his help. Using his arm to hold his weight up, Edward dragged his feet back underneath him and slowly stood back up, looking just as shocked as the colonel felt.

"Are you alright?" Roy asked, checking the blond over with his eyes to make sure he didn't sprain anything.

"Yeah, fine," Ed breathed as he rubbed his eyes. He was clearly still exhausted and his motor skills were deteriorating with every passing day.

Roy decided that he didn't quite want his subordinate out of his sight yet. On a normal day, he would openly laugh at Ed for tripping, but his current state sucked the humor out of it. "There's really nothing to do in the guest room, unless you plan on going back to sleep." One look at the kid told him that Ed had no plans on getting any sleep that morning. "Why don't you read a book or something? I have a pretty decent collection."

Edward easily shrugged the suggestion off. "I don't have time to read. I still have to keep looking for Riece and Al," he breathed and started to walk around the colonel, who stood between him and the archway.

Something clicked in Mustang's mind and he immediately stepped back into the boy's path without having to spare a thought on it, earning a glare from Fullmetal.

"You are in no state to be running around town. Besides, it's still raining," he added with one glance over the blond head to look out the kitchen window.

Ed held the challenging stare for a moment, before slowly following his gaze out the window. He was probably reluctant to get back out underneath the storm clouds, judging by how easily he relented.

"Alright fine," he replied and turned back towards the colonel. "But I might have a book to read with my own stu-" he paused and stared wide-eyes at nothing. "Shit!" He exclaimed and brought a hand swiftly up to hit his own head. "I forgot my suitcase in the park when you showed up," he answered before Roy could get the question out, targeting the colonel with a quick, annoyed glare. Ed hastily sidestepped Mustang and ducked into the living room.

Roy turned around and followed him as Ed was going straight for the front door. "Hold on, Fullmetal," he urged, hastening his pace to stop the kid by the shoulder. "You can't leave in broad daylight; you'll get noticed immediately."

Edward stopped, apparently aware that he didn't do a great job at staying hidden last time he was out on the streets. "But what if someone found it? What if someone stole all of my stuff? I need to know for sure and find it and beat the crap out of whoever took it!" He stammered and quickly pushed through the man's hold. He moved towards the front door before Roy could stop him, but his hand slipped passed the handle and he nearly banged his head against the door when it didn't open as he expected. He paused and reached for it again, but clumsily lost grip of the handle once again.

"I'll get it for you," Roy announced, effectively stopping Ed's struggling, not entirely sure why he offered so quickly. It was almost painful to watch the blond struggle to do something as simple as turn a doorknob. He figured that Fullmetal had his only possessions in that suitcase, so the stubborn kid would stop at nothing to get them back. However, he would feel much more comfortable if he went to fetch it instead and Fullmetal stayed inside. Even if it meant enduring the rain once more. "It's been raining all night, so I doubt anyone has been out there. It would be much safer if I went out instead." If the disoriented kid couldn't even open the door, then he didn't want to risk letting him stumble into traffic anyway.

The suggestion seemed to have calmed the boy down slightly, or at least enough for him to see the logic in it. He looked up at Mustang, noting the unwavering expression he held every time he made a decision.

"Okay... But you can't open it! I'll know if you do," he warned unconvincingly, jabbing a metal finger in his general direction.

"I have no interest in shuffling through your suitcase," Roy sighed. But then again, it was difficult to blame the kid for being paranoid considering his situation.

 _That wouldn't be a problem if he just got some decent sleep_. He shoved the sour thought away in favor of a more apathetic outlook.

"Anyway, it should be behind that tree where you found me," Fullmetal explained quickly, in which Roy gave him a curt nod in response.

Edward insisted that he leave immediately before someone found his belongings, so the older man dragged his feet upstairs to put some proper shoes on and grabbed his coat on his way out the door. He thought about telling the kid that he better still be there by the time Roy got back, but figured that Ed wasn't going anywhere until he at least had his suitcase back.

* * *

Ed was at a loss for words. He didn't recognize the person who had offered to trek out into the rain on his account, just to fetch an old suitcase.

But to be fair, nothing was making much sense to him lately.

He hoped that being offered a large, comfortable bed would somehow help him to get some sleep, but in actuality, it just made it harder for him to keep his eyes open after deciding that it wasn't worth it. By morning, he was under the impression that he only got a few solid minutes of rest. Of course, there was no way to know for sure, considering his new habit of blanking out every now and again. Plus, his internal clock had broken a few days ago.

Yes, he really was just falling apart, it seemed. Ed was disgusted that he couldn't even manage to turn a doorknob properly. He probably looked like an idiot to Mustang when he almost headbutted the door in his attempt to run across town.

It was no wonder that the older alchemist decided to go instead. Ed would most likely get killed before he could get half way to the park in his current state. But he supposed there was a silver lining; because now, Edward was free to venture around the house without that man watching him like a hawk.

Examining the Colonel's living room furniture, the few landscape paintings that were hung only to take up space, and the radio could only entertain him for so long. Once Mustang left Ed alone to hunt down his suitcase, he was quick to find the collection of books that he had spoken of.

Mustang briefly mentioned that he had a study room, but Ed didn't actually find it until he finally decided to check the door next to the staircase that he always thought to be a coat closet. But instead of seeing jackets and scarves, he was greeted by the wonderful sight of several bookcases lining the walls, filled to the brim with knowledge. A warm brown light filled the space when he flipped the switch, casting a very cozy setting. The small side room also housed a large, comfortable looking chair in the corner and a desk against the wall that was already covered with towering stacks of papers. It looked just like Mustang's work desk, but there was dust in the air that indicated a lack of use.

Once he decided that he was going to spend an indiscernible amount of time there, he crossed the room and pulled the blinds closed to block out the outside world.

Edward had to admit that he felt somewhat uncomfortable by perusing Mustang's selection of books at first, but the hesitance slipped away as soon as he started reading some of the titles.

To say that the older alchemist had a  _decent_  collection was an understatement. Just a single look at the first shelf and Ed knew that there were books in there that he had read, researched, and only heard rumors of. And that's not to mention the few valuable primary sources; journals and notes by other successful alchemists. The man basically owned his own miniature library.

Edward sometimes forgot that Roy Mustang was a very accomplished and intelligent alchemist, especially for mastering something as unique and complicated as flame alchemy.

He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting in the large chair with a book in his lap and even more stacked by his feet. With so much material to work with, loosing himself inside of it was easy.

Mustang eventually returned and startled him out of his concentration to inform him that the suitcase was already waiting for him in the guest room. He took a moment to check that everything was in place before going back down to the study, too engrossed in the literature to stray from it for too long. Thankfully, everything he owned was where it belonged, if not a little soggy. His travel log, aka his alchemy notes, was perfectly fine, so he couldn't bring himself to care much about the rest. Mustang might have offered to throw his clothes in the drier, but Ed had already toned the man out at that point.

Edward continued to read for the greater part of the day, stopping only briefly when Mustang prompted him with food, reminding him once again that he was starving. However, that short distraction was enough for him to realize that his eyes began to hurt, probably from all of the reading- or lack of sleep- or both.

Sometimes they ached and sometimes they stung, but there was always a hint of red in his eyes every time he checked his reflection; which was why he eventually started to avoid mirrors altogether. But even if he wanted to sleep now, his body wouldn't let him. Ed was constantly tired and yearned for rest, but his mind was always racing. His thoughts were slowly becoming more disjointed and random as time passed, but one thing always remained the same: the images of blood dripping down his own hands and the voices of accusations raged every time he closed his eyes for more than a few seconds. At least reading kept those uncontrollable thoughts at bay.

Besides, there was really nothing else to do, unless he wanted to talk to Mustang. The man had a point when he said that Ed needed to stay inside and rest. While  _rest_ was a relative term and didn't necessarily mean sleeping, the blond had no desire to run out into the streets again and feel the need to watch his own back like a hawk. Even though he didn't feel quite at ease around the colonel, it was... better. Ed still questioned the man's objectives, but he couldn't continue to deny that he wasn't at least slightly thankful.

The exhausted part of his brain just wanted to hold onto this reason to have one less thing to worry about. Even if this was actually all some kind of cruel, elaborate trap created by Mustang's manipulative mind, then for whatever reason, he would accept it. Because he knew that he couldn't have gone on much longer as things were before. He didn't have the energy to say "I shouldn't have trusted you" if this ended badly for him because he wouldn't have gotten nearly as far with the alternative.

At least, that's what he predicted. It was still too soon to tell.

Despite being more-or-less forced into it, he technically chose this path for better or for worse. Of course, that's not to say that Mustang wouldn't at least earn himself a broken nose if this was all a trick.

But regardless, he found himself wanting to believe everything the colonel said and relay the entire story to him. But he couldn't. He might end up sharing portions of information if it would prove useful, but he couldn't bring himself to admit what he had done. If Mustang knew, then he wouldn't be able to forgive him. He would know that Edward truly deserved to be locked up. A trained military man such as him would have no reason to think any differently.

And yet, Mustang still believed that he was innocent. Edward didn't know if he should feel happy or ashamed of that. There was a little bit of both, he supposed.

That was exactly why it pained him to think about it. He didn't quite know how he was going to cross that bridge, or even if he would be able to, but nonetheless, he didn't want to worry about it at the moment.

Yes, Ed would much rather lose himself in the timeless classic,  _The Beginning of Alchemy Volume 1._ Written about four hundred years ago, not long after alchemy was first introduced to Amestris. Of course, it had been reprinted several times and he had already read it years ago, but it was never a bad idea to brush up on the old knowledge that it stored. Since so much time has passed since he originally looked through it's pages, he figured there was a chance that he would discover something new now that he was more experienced.

But even as he happily delved into reading, one thought in particular continued to nag him relentlessly: how could he just sit there in Mustang's study and try to enjoy himself when Alphonse was suffering? He should be spending every waking moment searching for his lost brother. Usually, that one thought would be enough to drive him out the door.

But at the same time, Ed was beginning to see that it might be hopeless. He had been running himself ragged for over a week, looking endlessly for his lost brother and the man who took him away. He had to accept that if he continued that way, he would burn himself out. He really had no choice but to take a day off. Besides, what was the point? Would one day out of so many make a difference?

As much as Edward tried to fight off that sense of hopelessness, it was so difficult not to listen to it every now and again. Especially when he physically couldn't keep going for much longer. He couldn't even get the front door open earlier that day. It was perfectly understandable for his body to demand a break.

Edward hated trying to justify his reasons for not keeping up the search as relentlessly as he should have. It just felt like he was making up excuses. If their positions were revered, then Alphonse wouldn't stop until Ed was found.

It was just one more thing to feel guilty about. One more thing to selfishly block from his mind, just for the time being.

He knew that if he went back outside, he would just wander around aimlessly, vainly hoping that the answers would magically appear before him. It would be an absolute waste of time and energy. So really, there was nothing else to do in that moment besides read.

The thoughtful peace that the young alchemist managed to find was short lived, however.

A loud chime rang through the house, jolting him out of his reading and onto the ground. He wasn't quite sure where the book landed and didn't have the mind to look for it as he leered at the door from behind the large chair.

His mind then had the courtesy to think up the worst possible scenarios to follow.

It could be the military ringing the doorbell to congratulate Mustang for herding him in. It could be a neighbor who saw him sneak in the night before. Hell, it could even be Riece himself, here to laugh at Edward for not figuring out his puzzle yet.

Those were all ridiculous and unlikely. Ed  _knew_  that, and yet he still automatically feared the worst. It was probably nothing that concerned him. He just had to calm down. He could just crack the door open to check for sure.

But what if Mustang opened the front door as soon as he checked? The two doors were nearly perfectly opposing to each other on each side of the living room, so it was possible. Edward wouldn't want to test his bad luck. So instead, he just listened carefully from his spot behind the chair.

Ed wasn't sure if he should have been glad or nervous that he recognized the voice that followed the creak of Mustang opening the door.

"Hey Roy! I heard you were sick, so Gracia made some soup to help you feel better. Isn't she just the best? You really ought to get yourself a wife so-" Maes Hughes was cut off when Mustang grumbled something in an annoyed, weary tone that Ed couldn't quite make out through the door. From the sound of the situation, Mustang wasn't even going to bother arguing, knowing it would be in vain. The front door closed but the voiced continued, then faded as the two men reached the kitchen.

Edward took a deep breath, wondering what he should do now. He could run upstairs, but he didn't want to risk Hughes catching a glance of him from the kitchen.

The lieutenant Colonel seemed like a good person, but just like Mustang, he was a member of the military and had a job to do. Never mind the fact that Mustang seemed to have made an exception for the Fullmetal Alchemist; Ed just got lucky in that case. People would react to his presence in all sorts of unpredictable ways, and he wasn't really prepared to test the waters with Hughes.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" the uninvited house-guest suddenly exclaimed, loudly enough for Ed to clearly hear him through the walls. "I left the photo album in the car; be right back!" He continued into the living room, just before the front door was pulled open again.

Roy chased after him, nearly begging him to leave the album where it was. However, his attempts proved to be fruitless, as the door closed once more.

A few more tentative seconds passed, as Edward wondered if Mustang had followed him out, or remained inside. But his questions were immediately answered when the door opened, just far enough for the colonel to slip inside the study.

"... Fullmetal?" He asked, sweeping his eyes across the room. Ed poked his head out further from behind the large chair, suddenly feeling ridiculously childish. "Don't worry; Maes won't come into the study," he began swiftly as soon as he spotted the alchemist. Either Mustang didn't notice that Ed probably looked like a little kid hiding from monsters, or he was very good at concealing his amusement. "He just pops in sometimes," the man said with a wry sigh. "I should have known he was planning on doing this as soon as I called in sick."

Mustang called into work sick? Could a colonel even do that? That certainly explained why he stayed in the house all day on a Thursday. Edward never really stopped to think about it.

"Assuming you don't want to say hi, you can either stay in here or run upstairs before he comes back in," Mustang explained with a hand on the doorknob as time slowly ran out. "He won't stay long, though. He needs to get back home to tuck Elicia in before it gets too late."

If he was going to be trapped anywhere for an indefinite amount of time, then he'd prefer to be around alchemy books than sit in a nearly-empty room. "I'll stay in here," Ed announced, then added on quickly: "You're sure he won't come in here?"

For some reason, Mustang just smiled wearily. "Positive." With that said, he left the study and closed the door just in time for a happy Maes to burst back into the living room with a just about a million photos.

Mustang then miserably herded his friend into the kitchen to heat up the homemade soup, leaving Edward to wonder if he should thank the man for enduring such torture for his sake.

After a moment of trying and failing to listen in on their conversation (just to check if they were talking about him), Ed dragged the discarded book back over to him, but remained sitting on the floor. He sat up against the side of the leather chair, hidden from view of the closed door.

While the chances of Hughes jumping into the study were slim, as Mustang had assured, there was still someone in the house who Ed felt the need to avoid. Therefor, returning to his comfortable position on the chair would make him feel too exposed and vulnerable.

Two weeks ago, he would have laughed at the concept of being too nervous to sit on a chair.

Nonetheless, Edward opened up the book onto his lap and flipped through the pages until he found the section he was on before being interrupted. In his little corner, he continued reading, vaguely listening to the deep murmurs as the two talked in the other room. Within minutes, he lost himself in the tome once more, unaware that there was something comforting about the gentle hum of other human beings conversing so close.

Accompanied only by pattering of rainwater against the window and the old book in his hands, the worries that weighed down his mind like stones were overlooked for just a few, blissful hours. With it, also came a warm sense of familiarity; Ed could almost see Alphonse sitting a ways away, in his own pile of research, just as they had done countless times before.

He wasn't sure when, but at some point during his reading, Ed had climbed back into the chair, momentarily forgetting that he wasn't get comfortable enough to let his guard down.


	8. Chapter 8

What was the point of sleeping?

Each attempt only strengthened his resolve to keep his eyes open, unwilling to slip back into the vulnerable state of dreaming. When he was dreaming, he couldn't control his own thoughts, which was something that he could only marginally do these days anyway. Everything that he had tried to tuck away for the sake of his own sanity returned to face him with a vengeance. Ed's mind was so much more cruel than he gave himself credit for. Not only would his mental filter abandon him when it was desperately needed the most, but his sick imagination liked to make things up and deceive him into believing them. It gave form to his deepest fears and even showed him fears that he wasn't originally aware of.

Al's young, innocent screams echoing through his skull as he pleaded for the help that Ed wasn't able to give.

Winry, choking on her own tears after learning what her childhood friend had done, unable to even look him in the eyes.

Mustang tossing him aside, realizing that his efforts were being squandered and he was simply wasting his time by trying to help the ungrateful teenager.

The monster that he had turned his mother into laughing and mocking him for messing up so badly yet again, reminding him that he hadn't learned anything over the years.

Victor Tresler boring into his very soul with his dead, lifeless eyes, silently demanding  _why_  so intensely that it made his head throb.

That bastard known as Riece, laughing at him as he held Ed's dear brother's life above his head.

He saw them all and more every time he closed his eyes. Sometimes, he even heard them; taunting him, judging him- reciting truths that he tried to ignore and telling him lies that he almost believed. More recently, there were times where he swore that he saw glimpses of those people in the corners of his eyes as well.

The thoughts, the voices, the images; they followed him night and day- persistently and unrelentingly. Edward was so tired of it. It was only natural for him to wonder how to make it all stop.

However, he was thankfully saved from his infectious thoughts for the time being when the smell of breakfast reached the guest room. Ed blinked, eyes stinging slightly as he broke his blank stare away from the wall. He rolled over on top of the large bed until he could see the ticking clock on the nightstand and squint at it to make sure he was seeing clearly. It was almost eight in the morning; so why was Mustang cooking downstairs? Shouldn't he be off to work by now? Surely the ambitious man wouldn't take two days off in a row on his accord.

The teenager pulled himself up to a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed, deciding that he didn't care enough to think about it. He was just glad that he was able to get up and walk around now. Anything to distract himself.

Ed stood up on his feet, but his legs failed him for a moment and he had to catch himself on the draping sheets before stumbling to the ground. With an annoyed growl, he pulled himself back up and approached the door, albeit unsteadily. But before he reached it, he paused and looked down at himself, then decided to turn around and dig through his suitcase until he pulled out one of his black shirts and slipped it on, favoring the driest one he could find. (The majority of the case's contents were still damp after the hours it spent in the rain.) He'd much prefer that to wearing Mustang's clothes, anyway. Deciding that his pants were still fine, he straightened up and stretched his arms, stifling a yawn.

Ed was about to drag himself over to the door, but his eyes fell on the window instead. Unsure why, something pulled him over to it and he peeked through the blinds with his fingers. The small window was next to the bed in the center of the far wall and looked just above the roof of the building next door. The storm clouds remained; dark and unforgiving as always, but the rain had stopped for the moment. Ed strained his gaze to look at the street despite the awkward angle and watched it for several seconds, not entirely sure what he was looking for. But regardless, something about it gave him a bad feeling.

After deciding that nothing suspicious was there, the alchemist tightened the blinds, then slowly moved back towards the door, casting one more distrustful glare towards the window.

After a few moments of trial and error, Edward eventually pulled the door open and caught another whiff of the appetizing scent that flooded in from down the stairs. But before he could follow it, the blond slipped into the restroom without bothering to turn the light on, since there wasn't anything he had any desire to see anyway.

He turned on the faucet and splashed the cold flowing water onto his face to wake himself up. Ed blinked lazily at the sink, watching the water drip down off of his nose and chin and mix within the swirling pool.

Edward remained there in a daze for several seconds, feeling fidgety and exhausted at the same time. The contradicting feelings conglomerated together just like the water in the sink, merging into one rapidly spinning thing that made him feel dizzy and unbalanced. He was restless but wanted nothing more than to sleep; but sleeping had become more difficult than ever before, so he quickly brushed the desire away. No point in yearning for something that felt impossible.

The blond blinked and shook his head, realizing that he started spacing out again. He blindly reached for a hand towel in the darkness and quickly dried his face, then turned out of the room. His head nearly collided into the door frame, but he awkwardly stumbled around it and continued down the hall. Ed kept close to the wall as he squeezed the bridge of his nose, willing himself to get a grip.

With a deep breath, Edward slowly lowered himself down the stairs, focusing in on each step the best he could. When he reached the first floor without nearly killing himself for the third time in five minutes, Ed exhaled wearily and stepped towards the kitchen. Just before he walked through the entryway, he paused and turned towards the windows in the living room. They were all covered up with blinds as well; good.

Once he was satisfied, Ed finally stepped into the kitchen. Mustang was exactly where he was yesterday morning; facing away from Edward and poking at something in a pan above the stove with a spatula. The man had apparently gone for a more casual look today, as he wore a dark t-shirt instead of something with a collar like usual. It was strange to see him in anything that didn't at least look semi-professional.

While Ed considered saying a greeting of some kind, he shuffled over to the table and sat down in the same chair as yesterday. But before he could decide on something, Mustang looked over his shoulder to the kid upon hearing his entrance.

"Morning," he started with a slight nod as he finished preparing the two plates. Edward repeated the welcome and watched as the colonel began to approach the table with the plates of food in his hands.

"Sleep alright?" Mustang asked tersely as he rounded the island counter.

Ed just made an indifferent sound that could have been confused with a "yeah," and shrugged. People asked that question simply as a formality. No one would actually want to hear that sleeping was nearing the equivalent of torture for the teenager. It's not like there was anything Mustang could do about it anyway.

The older alchemist set a plate down in front of Ed, which was covered with scrambled eggs, bacon and toast; same as yesterday, but Edward was starving and wasn't about to complain. However, his attention was drawn away when the colonel recoiled back and scowled.

"Oh god, Fullmetal; when was the last time you showered?" He asked, setting his own plate down before he dropped it in his alarm.

Ed glared at him. Was that bastard saying he smelled bad? "Yesterday," he muttered, not bothering to hide the annoyance that suddenly boiled. He was in no mood to be nagged about something so stupid.

"Well, you reek." Mustang furrowed his brow and dared to step closer to the kid, scrutinizing him through narrowed eyes. Ed leaned back his chair in a meager attempt to get further away from him. "Actually, I think it's your clothes," he deduced and stepped back to his chair on the other side of the table.

Ed pulled at the front of his shirt to get a better look at the fabric and glared at it. Perhaps it did smell a little... expired. He opened his mouth to reply before actually thinking of something to say. As a result, he remained quiet with his mouth ajar as he shifted the fabric of his shirt between his fingers, almost forgetting that Mustang was watching him.

As Ed failed to notice the passing seconds, the colonel cleared his throat and continued. "I  _did_  ask if you wanted to wash your laundry yesterday," he added pointedly.

Ed looked up at him and blinked, his mind drawing a blank. "You did? When?"

"Right after I came back with your suitcase; right before you holed yourself up in the study."

"Oh." Nope, he didn't remember that in the slightest. Actually, most of yesterday blurred together, leaving him unable to recall many details.

Mustang sighed and looked down to his feet as he picked up his fork. "Regardless; you're going to make my entire house stink at this rate. I'm not about to clean your clothes for you, but I'll show you where the washing machine is later."

Ed nodded and clumsily picked up his own fork, allowing his tired eyes to fall on the plate before him, silently reveling in how strange the situation was. How did he even end up here? Staying in the same house as Colonel Roy Mustang, getting lectured about doing laundry... It was all so unfamiliar and just as unbelievable. The way he woke up to the smell of food reminded him of his days back in Resembool; back when things were simpler.

Edward sighed and poked the eggs with his fork and swiftly brought it up to his mouth; except the bare fork just poked his cheek instead. He missed both the food and his own mouth.

Okay.

 _Eating is a simple task. Focus, Ed!_ He silently scolded himself and tried again, staring at his own hand intently, forcing his motor skills to cooperate. He managed to get about halfway done with the meal by the time he glanced up and noticed that Mustang was watching him. The older man had already finished eating and looked at the kid with a touch of concern and confusion embedded in his features.

Edward tried to ignore him for all of two seconds, before snapping.

"What?!" He growled, sending a glare at the alchemist that didn't feel as sharp as he intended.

"You-" The Colonel started then closed his mouth, apparently thinking twice about something. His dark eyes narrowed, but it wasn't the same judgmental look that radiated arrogance and certainty that he often received from the man. Instead, it was something else that he had seen very few times, all recently, that he wasn't quite sure how to place. "Do you see a problem with this?"

Ed returned Mustang's stare with a frown and spoke without caring to think about the man's words for himself. "What the hell are you talking about?" he muttered tiredly, and not because he was feeling particularly curious.

"Just look at yourself," Mustang exclaimed exasperatedly and gestured towards the blond across the table with an outstretched arm. "I dragged you here in the first place so you wouldn't pass out on the streets and end up in the hospital! But it doesn't look like my efforts have done anything to help," he sighed, settling back in his chair as the quick burst of energy drained out with a sigh.

A switched flipped, a light turned on, something clicked and Ed's eyes widened as realization punched him in the face. He blanched as he watched the colonel, whose thin gaze was aimed at his own hands on the table, deep in thought.

_Mustang tossing him aside, realizing that his efforts were being squandered and he was simply wasting his time by trying to help the ungrateful teenager._

Was he considering how to break it to Ed that he was tired of putting up with him? Of course; who would want to watch a sleep deprived teenager fall apart in their own house? Ignorance was bliss, after all. Mustang let him into his home for forty eight hours in hopes of helping somehow. Not only had Ed gotten little to no sleep in that time, but he was basically deteriorating in every other way as well. Why would he expect Mustang to continue letting him stay any longer?

But Ed didn't want to leave; he didn't want to go back out to the streets, left with nothing once more. He had been too occupied by being suspicious of the man to consider showing any gratitude whatsoever, and now he was going to pay the price.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, it had become painfully clear that Edward couldn't do everything alone. Hell, he couldn't do  _anything_ alone. If Mustang was truly the only person who honestly wanted to help, then it would be suicide to reject it.

Mustang leaned back in his chair and his arms fell down to his sides and he looked back over to the blond. Ed stiffened, unsure how to respond to what was surely in store.

"I need to be honest here, Fullmetal," he began slowly.

 _Shit, here it comes._  He was going to tell Ed that this was too much work for too little of a reward. He was probably wondering if he should kick the kid out, or just turn him in already.

"I don't really know what I'm doing." He folded his arms warily and watched the younger alchemist, waiting for a response, but Ed remained still. "I can't do anything until I have something to work with," he sighed. "But I don't want to corner you with questions… I've tried giving you some space, but that didn't seem to do much either."

Edward forced himself to breath, realizing that he had stopped once the colonel started talking. It didn't really  _sound_  like he had completely given up on the younger alchemist yet. Maybe the situation was still salvageable. If he could give the man some information to appease him, then maybe...

"So," Ed began nervously, realizing that that was his cue to speak. He bit down on his lip, not sure if he should dare to speak, or if he could afford not to. "What do you need to know?"

Mustang was silent for what felt like several seconds. His nonplussed expression was faint, but Ed picked up on it all the same. The older man was apparently putting thought into the question, judging by the way his gaze fell to stare into space for a short moment, before finding its way back towards the teenager.

"Let's start with... why are you looking for Riece?"

Ed stifled a sigh of relief. Not only did the colonel avoid asking a more impossible question, but the young alchemist's chances of staying were looking better. But nonetheless, answering one question would undoubtedly lead into more, so he had to be careful. He couldn't tell Mustang everything; he didn't need to know the details anyway. But maybe he could at least help Ed find Al. That was his job, after all.

One thing that Mustang once said managed to stick out in Ed's faulty memory:  _You trusted me to keep your secret about the taboo; you can trust me to keep this as well._ Perhaps he truly meant what he said. But on second thought, Mustang kept that secret so the Fullmetal Alchemist could remain under his command. He had nothing to gain from helping him this time, seeing as Ed knew that there would ultimately be no way out of it. He would eventually have to face the consequences. But Mustang didn't know that; Mustang still believed that Edward was completely innocent... Yes, that made much more sense.

He would be taking advantage of the colonel's misplaced faith, but he didn't have any other options. Besides, if this could somehow grant Al's safety and freedom, then he would take what he could get.

The Fullmetal Alchemist looked down at the table and his grip tightened around the trim of his shirt. This was it; the moment of truth. He was going to put some trust in the colonel, because it was just as Mustang said a few nights ago: Ed had nothing else and nowhere else to put it. "He... he kidnapped Al," he breathed, repressing a flinch as the images flooded through his mind.

Alphonse sitting helplessly at the other end of the warehouse, out of his reach, that bastard grinning at him like a psychopath, his hand hovering above the blood seal, the fear in Al's eyes...

"He knows about the blood seal inside Al's armor too. He just... took him and disappeared," Ed continued, his voice just barely above a whisper.

"What does he want?"

Ed's knuckles began to turn white as his fists stiffened underneath the table. He didn't look up to meet Mustang's stare, but he could feel his dark, calculating eyes on him with every hesitant second. "It- it doesn't matter what he wanted." He stiffened and clenched his jaw, just waiting for Mustang to get upset and demand a better answer. But when it didn't come, he forced himself to look at the man at the other end of the table.

Mustang was still leaning back in the chair with his arms folded and he was looking at nothing in particular. Judging by the small, subconscious nod of his head he seemed to have accepted Ed's answer and was now deep in thought once again.

"Alright; so what else can you tell me?" The older alchemist eventually asked as his tone lacked the frustration and impatience that Ed expected.

Well, that was surprising. But if he were to be honest, Ed didn't quite trust himself to think about it. If he couldn't quite figure out the other alchemist's thought process on a normal day, then there was no way that he was going to get close in his current state.

But the question remained; what else was he willing to share?

He needlessly cleared his throat. "Well, Riece doesn't seem like he wants to actually hurt Al. He said he'll get into contact with me to return Al after- uh, after some time... but I can't believe a word he says."

The colonel returned his intertwined hands onto the surface of the table, just as he always did back at the office in Central HQ. "One last thing." Ed found himself holding his breath again. "Does this have any connection to the death of Victor Tresler?"

Edward pursed his lip, trying and probably failing to hide the hesitation that quickly swept over him. Would the older alchemist somehow be able to connect the dots if Ed told him the truth? But what does it matter? He would probably find out one of these days regardless. He just didn't want that to happen anytime soon. Lacking an alternative, Ed nodded rigidly.

To the kid's surprise, Mustang abruptly stood from the table and walked over to one of the counters by the telephone and picked up the handset. "I'm going to give the records another look. And I'll need a more accurate description on his appearance," he added, giving Edward a significant glance over his shoulder. Apparently, the first drawing of the man wasn't good enough.

Before Ed could defend himself and his artistic skills, the colonel had already finished dialing in a number into the phone. He effectively tuned the teenager out and easily slipped into work-mode when the line was answered.

... That went slightly better than expected.

* * *

Alphonse was fairly certain that he was in a basement.

An abandoned, desolate, disgusting basement.

There was a leak somewhere which allowed water to drip onto the concrete floor every time a particularly damaged pipe was put to use from elsewhere in the building. Rats scurried along the floors every now and again, scattering around the clutter of storage crates and rotten, forgotten furniture. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs and there wasn't a single window.

He was stuffed in another box for travel and was taken to wherever he currently was at least a week ago, so he had no idea what his exact location was. He could have been brought to another city or another country for all he knew. Of course, that seemed unlikely, given how much time had passed while he was trapped in that darkness. He couldn't even begin to guess if he was in someone's home, a deserted house, or another warehouse- although, the latter seemed unlikely.

Escaping was becoming to look more and more impossible as the days passed. There wasn't much he could do without any limbs, but that didn't stop him from trying. His first attempt nearly succeeded, but Riece walked in just in time to stop him from completing the transmutation circle that he had scratched into the wall with the spike on his helmet.

The process repeated itself multiple times since, all resulting in Riece coming up with new ways to prevent Al from trying yet again. That is, until he finally decided to simply flatten the spikes on his armor with a heated mallet. He spent every moment since trying to figure out a way to escape without relying on scratching circles into the ground and walls, but had failed to find a solution so far.

Alphonse long since decided that Riece wasn't a good person, but that was only confirmed once his stay in the basement began. While he tricked Al and was blackmailing Ed, he seemed strangely civil at the same time. The man had a shine in his eyes that could only be described as joy. His personality didn't fit his actions in the slightest. The young Elric was understandably confused, but he went along with it.

However, that was until it became clear that Riece was more complicated that he first assumed. He often came down into the basement just to talk. The topics had a relatively narrow range; usually regarding Al's thoughts and emotions about his situation, his brother, fears- some more personal than others. But regardless, he always seemed very lively every time they spoke. At first, he just thought Riece was trying to get to know him out of boredom or something, but he then noticed that the man was taking notes.

His kidnapper seemed interested in everything the kid said and did, until after Al's first few escape attempts; once it became nothing but an annoyance, the amusement and curiosity began to die from Riece's eyes. Once he got tired of the antics, something changed- the man became a completely different person.

He would suddenly become angry and closed off, and would make no further attempt to talk to Al after he was done reproving him for trying to get away. Alphonse had a lot of time to think about it, and he believed he was getting close to understanding what flipped the switch.

It seemed to be a matter of control. As long as Riece could conduct the the flow of a conversation and keep his prisoner at bay, then he was happy. But as soon as Al tried to ask questions that Riece didn't care to answer, or when he tried to ruin his plans by escaping, the man's jovial personality would disappear to be immediately replaced with something darker and unstable. But for whatever reason, he would return to his normally happy self the very next day, acting as if nothing had ever happened.

However, that new revelation did make it easier to fight back. Despite all he had done, attacking a man who appeared to be nothing but earnestly cheerful did prove to be difficult. Perhaps Al was just too soft. But once Riece decided to show his true colors, that became irrelevant. Since then, it was safe to say that the kidnapper had received a new bruise every time he got too close.

But even that wouldn't make up for his actions.

Alphonse was constantly worrying about his brother because of that man. He knew that Ed was probably tearing the city apart; he knew that the older Elric wouldn't sit still even if he had been told to wait. But by doing so, Al was almost certain that Ed would somehow get himself into trouble- he seemed to have a knack for that.

If their positions were reversed, then Alphonse would have been beside himself with worry and would spend every second doing whatever he could to find his missing brother and the person who kidnapped him. Being an empty suit of armor, that was fine- but the same couldn't be said for Edward. He already had a bad habit of prioritizing his tasks above his own health, leading Al to hope that he wasn't currently running himself into the ground.

To make things worse, Edward was notoriously stubborn. It may have just been a vain hope, but Al desperately wished that he had gotten some help- as unlikely as that probably was.

Nonetheless, he had complete confidence in his brother's ability to somehow find him. However, Al would rather not just sit back and wait, if he could help it. He was gullible enough to get himself into this mess, so it was his job to get himself out. Besides, he'd rather get away before Riece got any funny ideas.

Speak of the devil- footsteps began going down the staircase that was just behind the room's only door. Alphonse prepared himself, wondering what it would be today. Another round of questions? Was he coming down to brag about his success? Perhaps he was finally going to follow through on is promise to free him and bring him back to Ed.

The old wooden door creaked open and Riece flipped on a light switch. The sole bulb that hung from the ceiling buzzed to life, highlighting the dust and bounced off of Al's armor body.

The older man closed the door behind him and approached the kid. He looked nearly exactly the same as he always did; his wardrobe must have been very basic because he basically wore the same thing each day, but changed the color of his shirt. Alphonse questioned the sincerity of that light, casual smile plastered on his face nearly every time he saw it since the man's first change in personality.

"Hello Alphonse," the older man greeted easily. "How are you feeling today?"

Alphonse decided not to answer him. He was asked the same question each and every day and gave different answers each time, so Riece already knew just  _how he was feeling_. Quite honestly, Al was getting frustrated.

The older man waited a few moments as he stood at a safe distance away from the dismantled suit of armor. After he quickly caught on to what Al was doing, he quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Silent treatment, I see. But that's alright; I understand. It's perfectly normal for you to resort to this considering your situation." He then pulled out a small notepad out of his back pocket and swiftly scribbled something with the corresponding pen.

Al glared at him despite being unable to actually do so. After being locked up for over a week, he was getting very fed up, and the man's unhelpful personality was doing him no favors.

"Just what do you have to gain from doing this?" The young Elric asked sharply. He's tried asking similar questions, but never got much in return. Usually, Riece outright refused to humor him. However, instead of looking annoyed like he usually would when Al asked questions, his smile widened slightly.

"Nothing. I'm not trying to  _gain_ anything, you see."

"Then why?" All previous attempts to ask what his motives were proved to be unsuccessful, but if the man was actually going to spill something, then Al would have to keep him talking while he had the chance.

Riece chuckled and wrote something down on the notepad in his hands. "This is just something I have to do. I know that you wouldn't be able to understand, so I won't bother trying to explain."

"What..." Al spun the answer around in his mind. "I don't see how any of this has to do with me and Ed. We don't even know you!"

Riece laughed wholeheartedly as if Al had just told him a joke, and then allowed his arms to fall to his sides. The young alchemist simply remained silent, wondering what in the world was so funny.

"See, this isn't about you," Riece explained, looking entirely amused by the conversation. He gave Al the impression that he had been waiting to say that and was overjoyed for being presented the opportunity.

Alphonse, on the hand, did not share his optimism. "Then how did we get involved?" He demanded, voice raising along with his frustration. He felt like every discussion he had with the man led him into the same exact circle- except this time, which was the furthest he had ever gotten. It would probably be best to keep himself from getting upset, in order to keep his kidnapper talking.

Riece sighed and folded his arms, looking at the ceiling in thought. "You unknowingly became involved when you and your brother made a certain decision. As a result of that, your involvement became nothing more than a... byproduct of something much more complicated."

Al was silent for several seconds, absorbing the sudden information after going days without being told anything. Why was he sharing so much all of a sudden? Something must have happened to trigger it. "So... what was this decision?" Was he expected to already know what had accidentally caused all of this?

Riece looked back down at the suit of armor as the content smile returned to his face. "That doesn't matter. As I've said, this isn't about you. All you need to worry about it playing your part." His eyes widened and his smile broadened somewhat as if something new suddenly occurred to him. "Which you won't have to do for much longer, actually. Everything has been progressing quite nicely."

"What do you mean?"

Riece looked as if he was refraining from breaking into laughter again. "Edward has been playing his part quite well. It's almost time for me to arrange another meeting with him."

Al's racing mind was put on pause at the mention of his brother.

"I'll have to be creative, considering his current location, but I'm sure I'll manage," he added, but his voice sounded like it was directed more towards himself than the boy.

While he wasn't able to hear parts of it at the time, the younger brother clearly remembered spectating the first conversation between Ed and Riece; he knew that the older man wanted his brother to kill someone. But he also knew how incredibly impossible that was. If the older Elric was so set on refusing to kill by orders of the Amestrian military, then he certainly wouldn't do it for any random person off the streets either. But at the same time, Ed did have a tendency to do stupid things when he was worried about Al's safety.

But regardless, murdering another human being simply wasn't something that Ed could do. He knew that Al wasn't incapable of protecting himself, so there should be no reason for him to go to such lengths. That was why he hadn't been worried about it for the past week or so, even as he was trapped in a basement with no way to know what his older brother was up to. But against his better judgment, that victorious and knowing gleam in Riece's eyes worried him.

"What are you talking about?" He posed the question all while knowing not to believe whatever the answer was right away. Al had to ask just in case the kidnapper was talking about something else all together. He certainly hoped that was the case, anyway.

Riece raised an eyebrow at the kid and didn't reply right away. Instead, he flipped the page of his notepad and wrote something inside once again. When his pen stopped moving, it remained pressed to the paper and his eyes fell back down on Alphonse. He stared for a long moment as a contemplative silence stretched out.

He then smiled and pulled something out of his other back pocket. "I suppose I could inform you. But just my words alone won't be enough to convince you; isn't that right?" he sung as he unfolded a page from a newspaper and held it out in front of Alphonse so he could read the headline.

_Hero of the People Suspected of Murder_

Alphonse felt himself freeze. He was certain that if he had hands, they would be shaking as he was unable to understand what he was looking at it.

But the words stared back at him just above a black and white picture of his brother; the very same picture that was taken for Ed's military ID card. Al had seen the photo many times before, but he never thought he would see it on the front page of a newspaper.

Perhaps he was imagining it.

Except the evidence was right in front of him. Alphonse failed to notice when Riece had shifted the paper under his arm so he could continue writing, as he was far too preoccupied with trying to understand what he was looking at.

It simply wasn't possible.

How could Ed be suspected of murder when he just wouldn't do that? Why didn't they know that? There had to be some kind of misunderstanding.

He refused to accept this.

Besides; it said he was  _suspected_  of murder. It only took one voice to raise suspicions about someone. Surely Riece wasn't above showing him the paper just to make him worry. "You- you're... that doesn't mean anything! You're just trying to get a reaction out of me!" Alphonse accused, eyeing the notepad in his hands. That must have been why he wrote everything down. He must have gotten some sick joy out of watching and recording his struggles.

As if to prove his point, Riece chuckled in response, not bothering to remove his eyes from the words as he wrote them down.

"Don't be so blind," he sighed, his smile still in place. "You reject the truth even as it's right in front of you, plain as day?" He  _tsked_  at the boy and shook his head as if he was disappointed. "But then again, denial is just the first stage." With that said, he dropped the newspaper onto the ground, inches away from where Alphonse was sitting. "I'll give you some time to think about it."

The older man took a step back to admire his handiwork. "Is there anything you'd like to add before I take my leave?"

Al wanted to tell the man to take the paper away; that he didn't want to look at it. But actually saying that would only confirm what Riece had said. Except Al wasn't just blindly rejecting something; he was sensibly rejecting something because it  _wasn't possible_!

He had to believe that.

He wouldn't let something so insignificant cause him to doubt his brother.

Never.

So he would remain silent. Al wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing the extent of his discomfort.

When he wasn't given an answer, Riece nodded and walked back towards the door without another word. He flipped the light off, believing that the suit of armor had no use for light, since he wasn't going anywhere.

Alphonse watched solemnly as Riece stepped through the doorway and flipped another page of his notepad as he closed the door shut behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

Edward sat up against the headboard of the bed with his arms folded on his drawn up knees, staring blankly at the door. His eyes were incredibly heavy as weights pulled them down, demanding that he give up the fight and drift into sleep.

This was nothing new. He faced the same battle every night, but that never made it any easier. In fact, the desire to fall asleep only became stronger with each passing day, but as did his fear of dreaming.

There were always times when Ed would let his guard down and blank out into unconsciousness against his will, allowing him to see Alphonse again. Usually that would be a good thing, but in his dreams, his dear brother would by crying out for help as an invisible force pulled him down into an abyss, far out of Ed's reach. No matter how much he wanted to jump and follow his brother down, something was always holding him back.

Of course, that's what he saw when he was lucky. Other times, Alphonse would rightfully be blaming Edward furiously for being unable to save him just before the seal on the inside of his armor would be smeared away, leaving him all alone and riddled with a guilt that was thick enough to choke on.

Thankfully, these nightmares were usually alarming enough to shake him back into awareness before sleep could get a stronger hold of his consciousness.

As much as he wanted to see Al again, he couldn't bare to look at him in those dreams. The fact that his younger brother was still in the hands of a kidnapper meant that Ed had failed him, and he would continue to fail until Al was finally safe. But since he started staying at Mustang's house, he hasn't made any progress. Ed had been entirely unproductive for one reason or another. But he hadn't actually been able to get anywhere since he found that note in the warehouse, and that was only because it was left purposefully for him. Using his own meager power, Ed has done nothing.

But the same couldn't be said for Mustang. Earlier that day- or more accurately: yesterday- the colonel had spent at least an hour talking on the phone to make up for the time he missed at the office. When he finally got off, he had Ed give him a detailed description of Riece's appearance. The blond wasn't sure how helpful his foggy memory was, but once it was all written down, the older man turned right back to the telephone.

No matter what Edward had done, no matter what he had become, Mustang was still determined to find Alphonse. He wasn't entirely sure if he should have been surprised or not. It was a State Alchemist's job to serve the people; while Al had close ties to the military, he was still just a civilian at the end of the day. With that in mind, it should have been expected for the colonel to do whatever he could to find the younger Elric.

Ed was so used to knowing that man as a manipulative bastard who wouldn't raise a finger unless he could get something out of it. But despite being invited into his home and seeing the raw sincerity in his dark eyes, the blond continued to fluctuate between wanting to trust him or not. But the colonel  _did_  say that he could leave if given any reason not to. The very fact that he said that in the first place should have been enough to put his worries at ease.

However, he continued to expect the worst. A once dormant part of his mind now spoke to him on a daily basis, telling him to doubt and second guess everything. While Ed was fairly convinced that he was just slowly losing his mind, he at least had the capacity to understand that the lack of sleep was to blame for that.

But instead of getting the rest that his body craved, Ed was sitting up and staring at a door at two in the morning, listening to the bombardment of rain slam into the window. He wasn't sure how anyone could sleep with the constant pounding anyway.

To prove his point, a flash of lightning flickered through the blinds, followed by a loud burst of thunder roaring from the sky that reverberated throughout the house. That was the loudest one he had heard all night; surely there wasn't a single person in Central who could have slept through that.

Not even five seconds later, another less intense boom greeted his ears, but it didn't quite sound like thunder. Edward turned his head to glance at the covered window, wondering if a tree had fallen. If lightning had struck something, then it could have caused some damage. If that was the case, then Ed should check to make sure. But then again, unless a fire somehow managed to start in the rain, it wasn't really his problem.

In spite of that thought, the young alchemist found himself shifting from his position on the bed until he was on his knees, facing the window, ignoring the ache in his automail ports. The pain had slowly lessened during the never ending storm, but it had returned with this latest downpour. He slid his fingers through the blinds and peered outside, squinting his eyes to make out anything passed the thick streams that rolled down the window.

The streetlights caught the rain as it fell, showcases the tremendous amounts of water that was falling to the earth, flooding the street. Within the circle of orange light on the sidewalk, a strange, out of place shadow disappeared behind the building, just as Ed's eyes registered its existence.

The blond quickly removed his hand, allowing the blinds to fall back into place to properly block out the outside world. That was funny; for a second, he thought that there was someone walking to the front of the house. But who would be doing that at such an hour?

It was probably a stray dog or a homeless person. Yeah; nothing to worry about... But Mustang lived in the nicer part of town, where both of those were extremely rare occurrences. Besides, even if it was an animal or a person, there was no reason for them to be out in the rain.

So then the question remained: what did he just see?

Edward carefully stepped down off the bed and absentmindedly ended up on the other side of the room, staring daggers into the window like he was daring something to jump out of it. Could it really be just a coincidence that he saw a shadow move to the front of the house in the middle of the night?

What if someone was going to break in? What if someone was trying to spy on him? What if someone caught on to where he was and planned to arrest both him and the colonel for harboring a criminal?

Except Mustang said he wasn't a criminal.

Assuming Ed could convince himself to believe those words, that still changed nothing in the eyes of the public.

Nevertheless, trepidation fluttered to life within his chest and the unease began to make his head throb. He caught a glimpse of  _something,_ and the uncertainty was going to eat away at him until he did something about it.

But what was there to do? It was nothing to concern himself with. Most likely. Probably. Maybe.

...

Or maybe not.

Before Edward quite knew was he was doing, he was already opening the door and stepping out into the dark hallway. He cast a quick glance over to Mustang's door before moving towards the staircase. After blindly finding the rail, he slowly began lowering himself down the steps, cringing as the wooden surface creaked under each uneven step. Ed didn't really want to explain himself to the colonel, if he just so happened to wake up. The older man would surely brush off his concerns like he was crazy.

His metal heel slipped off one of the steps, causing Ed to flail out in a panic until his hands landed on the stairs. He was narrowly able to catch himself before falling further to the bottom. Edward froze with his breath caught in his throat, listening for movement. He strained his ears, but could only hear the low buzz of the air heater, cracks of thunder, and the rain's interminable hammering against the townhouse.

Edward forced air down into his lungs and eventually reached the ground floor, peering cautiously around the corner, into the living room. Just as he was about to decide that nothing seemed to be out of place, his golden eyes locked onto one of the windows next to the front door; the blinds were not as tightly shut as the others. He could see outside through the cracks, which meant that someone else could see  _inside_  as well. Even as he watched the window from across the room, Ed half expected someone to appear behind the glass and look directly at him.

Calm down. There was nothing to worry about. He was Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist; he wasn't afraid of a window. He was brave and fearless- he looked danger directly in the face and laughed! Lately, he had just been a little... on-edge, is all. Completely understandable, considering the circumstances. But he wasn't afraid of a window. Absolutely not.

Ed straighten himself to stand up tall and stepped out from the safety of the staircase. Feigning a false sense of courage, Edward curled his fists and began to cross the room, eyes set on the exposed glass. After nearly tripping over the coffee table that was centered between the two sofas, he reached the window, forcing himself not to shy away from the outside.

As his hand reached for the thin rope to tighten the blinds, he automatically looked outside between the gaps. His gaze shifted from one side of the street to the other, struggling to make anything out within the heavy rain, assisted only by the few streetlamps. Just as he was beginning to accept that there truly was nothing out there and he was likely just hallucinating again, a slight movement caught his attention.

It was nothing- it had to be nothing. The rain was just playing tricks on him...

Edward pressed his face closer to the window, so his nose almost touched the cool glass. He pushed his wary eyes to make anything out within the distorted darkness until he could narrowly see something just outside the circle of orange light on the other side of the street.

He yanked down on the rope, snapping the blinds shut as his wide eyes continued to stare at nothing, heart racing in his chest once again.

It was nothing! He was just seeing things. Hallucinating again. Ed already knew that he couldn't trust his own eyes half the time anymore. It was just happening again. No big deal. There certainly wasn't a human being standing on the far sidewalk, directly facing the house.  _And him._  And even if there was someone there, they would have no way of knowing that he was looking back at them. Of course not. Impossible.

... Which was why it would be perfectly harmless to quickly check. Just to make sure. Unless he eased his pointless worrying now, Edward knew that it would leave him restless and anxious for the rest of the night, at the very least.

The teenager inched over to the front door and nervously grabbed the handle, then hesitated.

Out of everything, that alone bothered him the most. The hesitated. The fear. Yes, he was afraid; afraid of opening a damn door and not knowing what was on the other side. But what right did he have to suddenly worry about such things? He had impulsively opened countless doors in his young life, unfazed by the uncertainty, if not enthralled by it. Besides, he was a State Alchemist! He knew how to fight and defend himself even if the worst was the come.

_But you couldn't defend Al._

The only thing that had changed was the amount of power. Edward was powerless now. No amount of influences or skill or connections could help him now, because only one person in the world knew where his brother was; and that person just so happened to be a twisted maniac. Even if he found the man and tried to beat him up until he talked, there was no guarantee that he would ever return the younger Elric to Ed. There was no guarantee that he was even safe. Or alive.

Despite Ed wanting to say that he would search every building and hole in Amestris until he found him, he simply couldn't risk it. That man knew his weakness. He couldn't risk Alphonse. As far as he knew, the only thing that was keeping Riece's hand away from the blood seal was Ed remaining powerless. If he had to be stripped of every resource for the insured well-being of his brother, then so be it; he accepted that at the very beginning. But he wasn't expecting the fear and paranoia that clung so closely to his mind and soul. After just a few weeks, he had become so pathetic. He saw it in everyone's eyes, just as he saw it in his own.

If doing something so insignificant as opening a door could help him to feel even slightly empowered, then he couldn't turn it down. He had to prove to himself that he wouldn't let himself be defeated so easily. Edward needed to feel that small victory so badly, that he couldn't even bring himself to care that it was over something so small and pointless.

With a revived sense of fiery dedication, Ed unlocked the door and swung it open.

When the barrier between him and the storm was opened, the vicious wind blew rain into the doorway and the sounds of water assaulting the world surrounded him. It was loud and chaotic. Edward fought to stifle the shiver that wanted to run through his body as a cold burst of moist air swept into the room.

All at once, time slowed to a stop and the dissonant sounds warped into a dull static in his eardrums as the blood froze in his veins.

A tall figure stood underneath the street lamp on the other side of the street, directly facing the house.  _Directly facing him._ A long coat and brimmed hat obscured all features with hollow shadows, but Ed could still feel eyes piercing through.

The person was motionless as it watched him, unfazed by the pouring water that battered down. Edward couldn't breath or think; his brain had completely shut down.

What felt like minutes passed as he was rooted to the spot, disoriented by the alarms that were ringing in his head. But after what was realistically only a few seconds, a tightness derived from a lack of air reminded him to move.

As soon as mobility returned to his arms, Ed slammed the front door shut and turned the deadbolt. He pressed his back against the wooden surface as if the person was going to kick the door down at any moment. His heart was racing and he was nearly deafened by the blood pulsing in his ears as he remained frozen.

This was bad. This was really, really bad.

That person was waiting for him, watching him, wanting him to notice. They must have seen him looking out through the window, then stepped into the light just to royally freak him out!

Ed couldn't begin to decide who they were and what they wanted; there were so many possibilities, and none of them were good.

_What should I do, what should I do, what should I do?_

The same question spiraled in his mind, crippling his ability to actually think of a solution. This was a big deal; he wasn't just overreacting. Surely it was worth mentioning to Mustang. A stranger was soliciting around his property at two, almost three in the morning. He should know about it.

But Ed had to wonder if he should really wake the man up because of this. Was it really necessary, or was he just being childish by wanting to run to someone else? That stranger was most likely standing there because Edward was there. Did it really involve the colonel? Did this classify as one of his problems that he shouldn't burden others with?

Before Ed could make a decision, the desire to check if the figure was still there quickly formed, but then was immediately squashed. He didn't care how stupid it was; there was no way in hell he was going to look again. Not from where he stood anyway- they would see him right away.

So no, he wasn't going to look through that window again. Perhaps he could see from the guest room window… And then after that, he could decide what to do about it.

Forcing a deep breath, Edward tentatively stepped away from the door after checking that it was indeed locked. However, he failed to make it far when his right foot didn't step on the cold wood that he was expecting. He looked down to see a small piece of paper on the floor. Curious, Ed removed it from underneath his foot with shaking hands, noting the cold and slightly damp texture. It must have been outside and swept into the house when he yanked the door open.

Squinting his eyes in the darkness, Edward struggled to make out the few words. But when he did, a newly resurrected fear strangled the breath out of his lungs.

_I see you have a new roommate._

It was him. It had to be. It was all the same; the design of the paper, the handwriting, the way it wasn't addressed or signed- it was Riece. It must have been that bastard standing outside under the light to mess with his mind.

It was just as he feared; Riece had been watching him the entire time. That meant that he knew Ed was staying at the colonel's house. It's only been a few days, and he hadn't left the building since- how did he find out?! And better yet, he clearly wanted Edward to know that he knew.

But  _why?_  What could that man possibly have to achieve from coming here and leaving that note for him to find? He obviously wasn't stopping by to free Alphonse, so what else was he trying to do?

Ed wasn't sure how long he spent staring at the note, circling the same set of questions around in his head. As soon as the situation sunk in, the apprehension he felt about getting Mustang involved disappeared. He didn't care if he was being childish and dependent; he couldn't risk handling this alone anymore. Nor did he want to.

* * *

Roy didn't quite wake when his door was thrown open, possibly denting the wall, as his mind automatically translated the sound to be thunder. But when uneven footsteps sped across the room followed with a  _thud_  by the window, something clicked in his groggy mind and told him to open his eyes.

Instinct flipped on when Roy squint through his heavy eyelids and saw a shadow of movement. Enticed by an abrupt surge of energy, he immediately swiped the ignition gloves off of his side table and was posed to snap with one swift motion. But as he paused to examine the situation, he saw a flash of blond hair thanks to the weak, thin lights that slipped in through the window.

Throwing the gloves back down, Roy rubbed his eyes and blinked to adjust to the darkness, then kicked his brain to cooperate. The burst of alarm swiftly abandoned him and was replaced by a draining exhaustion. He grabbed the small analogue clock off the table and glared at it, struggling to make out the time. Why the hell was Edward in his room at three in the morning, looking out his window?

"Mustang, wake up," Ed whispered urgently, not sparing him a glance as his focus was trained out the window as he ducked behind the curtains.

"... What is it, Fullmetal?" His voice wasn't quite awake yet either, as the words came out as a hoarse whisper. That kid better have a damn good reason for waking him up on a Saturday morning. He was looking forward to sleeping in.

Ed looked over his shoulder to the colonel, appearing just as frightened and nervous as he usually did these days. "Come here," he insisted and gestured to the window with his flesh hand. When Roy just stared warily at him in response, Ed frowned. "Come on, look out the window! There's something-  _someone_  out there!"

His initial suspicion was that Ed was just seeing things again, but he couldn't bring himself to dismiss his concern after seeing Fullmetal's petrified expression. It then dawned on Roy that he wasn't going to get any more sleep until he humored the boy.

Roy stifled a weary, reluctant groan as he halfheartedly tossed the warm blankets out of the way and slowly moved to stand up, suppressing a shiver as the cold November air fought back the warmth. Apparently, he was too slow, because Ed zealously grabbed hold of his sleeve and ushered him over towards the window. He begrudgingly opened the blinds, casting Edward a questioning glance when he shied away from the window, then peered outside.

Rain was falling down in waves, flooding the street faster than it could drain out. The streetlamps offered some visibility to the downpour, but it's own density burred the drops together, almost creating an illusion of fog. It was nearly impossible to see anything that wasn't within reach of the lights. Besides a few empty cars that were parked alongside the street every night, the road was deserted.

"I don't see anything," Roy muttered, hardly surprised.

"What? He was just there," Ed breathed incredulously as he took the older man's spot in front of the window to leer outside. "He was there, I swear! He was right under the light!"

" _Who_  was there?"

"Riece! I know it was him!"

"Did you actually see his face?" Roy asked, still skeptical as he wearily rubbed his eyes and held back a yawn.

The blond hesitated and avoided eye contact. "Well... No, but I'm sure it was him. I-" he interrupted himself and abruptly perked up. "Oh! Almost forgot; I have proof!" In response to Roy's puzzled expression, Ed riffled through his pocket and pulled out a small, crumbled up piece of paper. After opening it up and failing to smooth out the wrinkled, he shoved it into the tired colonel's hand.

Roy grimaced as he recognized signs of writing on the note in the darkness. He held it up close to his face, unwilling to turn the light on to assist in his reading. When he finally managed to make out the words, he glanced back down at Ed, unsure how it explained anything and was now left with only more questions. The little scrap of paper didn't necessarily mean anything. While it was a strange coincidence that it should mention a roommate days after Ed moved into his guest room, it wasn't enough to start making assumptions. He pursed his lip, wondering how to respond.

"Where did you find this?"

"It got blown into the house when I opened the front door," the blond replied quickly.

Roy blinked in silence for a beat. "Why did you open the front door at this hour?"

"Because I saw Riece!" he exclaimed exasperatedly as if it was obvious.

He was silent for another moment, digesting the information and summing up what he got from it. While Fullmetal  _might_ have seen the man who kidnapped his brother and left a note on the door, knowing that he would open it, he also could have seen some random stranger and picked up a piece of litter. Either way, Roy had his own set of concerns.

"So you didn't get any sleep tonight either, huh?" Roy was well aware how a train of thought liked to travel in the middle of the night when induced by fear.

Edward paused as he was forced to follow Mustang's mental leap, clearly not as concerned for his own mental health as he should be. After a moment of staring back at Roy's subtly disappointed expression, he returned it with a glare. "You... you don't believe me, do you?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Roy blinked, mildly taken aback by the sense of betrayal that was now housed in the kid's visage. Then again, if he truly felt so strongly about it, then perhaps it was worth a second thought. It took his tired mind a moment to realize it, but it would do him no good to start doubting the kid now. "Fullmetal-"

"You think I'm making all of this up," the blond accused and effectively cut him off as an anger flared up in his eyes. "But I'm not- I know I'm not! You think that just because it sounds crazy, it's not true!?

"But you have to believe me, because..." Just as quickly as it arose, the heat in his voice and face faded away and was replaced with a kind of hopeless understanding before Roy could get a word in. "Because if you don't then... then it's just as you said; I'll- I'll have nothing left."

Ed unknowingly stepped back and faltered, using the stability of the wall to hold him up as his shoulders slumped. "I won't be able to find Al, or do anything because I- I can't do this alone." His voice fell to a whisper and his dilated eyes became unfocused as if he was no longer talking to Roy. "I can't- I've never been alone before... Al has always been there.  _Always._  A-and now that he's not here, I don't know what to do."

Roy simply stared nonplussed as his youngest subordinate disclosed the fears and concerns that weighed so heavily on his shoulders. He found himself in an unfamiliar position that he never would have considered to be a possibility until it was folding out in front of him. He had no doubt that Ed was only opening up like that because he wasn't able to think with the usual clarity. Was this his cue to say something cheesy and comforting? He was never very skilled at dealing with these kinds of situations...

"I've tried doing it alone," Edward continued weakly and ran a hand through his hair. "I've tried, but..." he trailed off and blinked rapidly, bringing his focus back up to his superior. "So you  _have_ to believe me!"

Somehow, seeing the raw desperation in the kid's eyes washed much of his personal confusion and hesitation away and brought an immediate switch in priorities. Roy wasn't entirely sure what changed, but he was far too tired to think about it.

He lowered himself to his knees to reach Edward's eye-level and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Ed didn't become tense or flinch away as he expected. In fact, he didn't react at all besides lowering his hysterical eyes to match the man's movement.

"I believe you," Roy stated, slipping every bit of conviction into his tone as he could at three in the morning.

He wasn't positive what changed his mind so quickly. Roy wanted to say that no hallucination could upset someone so badly and to that intensity, but he knew firsthand how realistic they could get. Perhaps he just wanted to believe that Ed's mental state wasn't bad enough to cause such haunting illusions. Perhaps he would actually prefer it if a kidnapper was standing outside of his house in the middle of the night instead of his young subordinate losing his mind to sleep deprivation.

Ed stared at him for a long moment, giving Roy the impression that he was still trying to piece together the meaning behind those three simple words. When he finally did, he worried his lip hesitantly, reluctant to get his hopes up. "Really?" he asked, verging between disbelief and relief.

Roy nodded, subconsciously tightening his grip on the blond's shoulder.

Edward continued to scrutinize him for a moment, in which Roy did his best to remain entirely confident and determined despite the yawn that threatened to break his hardened expression. Finally, the young alchemist allowed a wry smile.

"Alright," the teenager breathed as a weight was lifted. "Thanks." Roy opened his mouth to reply, but Ed hastily continued on with a restored energy. "Then, let's get going." He moved to step around the colonel, but the man held him still.

"Hold on there," he began carefully. "Go where?"

Ed blinked at him, not understanding why they weren't on the same page. "Riece is still out there! He could come back; we need to prepare just in case he-"

"He's not coming back, Ed," Roy insisted, ensuring that he caught the frantic kid's eye. If Riece really did just come by to drop of the note, then he should have been long gone by now.

"But what if he-"

"He's not coming back." The finality in the colonel's tone put Ed on pause, giving him the opportunity to continue. "I promised, you're safe here."

Edward stared in response, clearly making an effort to absorb the words despite the hindrance of his tired, uncooperative mind. At last, he opened his mouth to reply, but settled for a pallid nod instead.

Roy smiled thinly while he let his arm drop back to his side and remained kneeling in front of the kid.

"We'll deal with it tomorrow," he decided, gingerly folding the small note before tossing it onto the side table. He wasn't sure if the small paper actually made its target, as he had already turned his attention back to Ed. "But for now, you  _need_ to get some sleep." The bond visibly withered. "There must be something that can help." When the only response he got was a shrug, Roy sighed and sat himself on the edge of the bed as Ed remained leaning against the wall. "Come on, work with me here," he cajoled, fighting to catch Fullmetal's eyes as he struggled to avoid it. "What exactly is stopping you from sleeping?"

"It doesn't matter," he muttered, suddenly finding his own feet to be very interesting.

"Ed…" The young alchemist finally looked up at the colonel, causing him to wonder if it was because of the intent in his voice, or the use of his nickname. He seemed to have a mental duel with himself while Roy kept his steady gaze on him. All at once, the fight died from Ed's eyes and a whisper of a sigh slipped past his lips.

"It's... It's stupid," he started halfheartedly and pulled his eyes away from Roy, deciding to stare into blank space instead. "I get these nightmares, and..." He paused, visibly struggling to get the words out. "And I have to constantly be watching out. It's like as soon as I close my eyes, something bad is going to happen and I won't be able to stop it."

Roy nodded somberly, understanding Edward's fear very well. He shared the same mindset during the civil war; that feeling that he had to watch his back for every moment of the day, the certainty that the worst possible situation would arise the moment he wasn't prepared for it, the fear of losing more people because he was powerless to save them.

"What if..." Roy began slowly as is mind raced to catch up with his words. He didn't put much thought into the suggestion before his mouth started moving, but since he already started, he might as well continue. "What if I stayed awake for you? Do you think that would help?"

Edward paused for a beat, his mouth slightly ajar as he stared at the colonel with a mix of confusion and disbelief. "What...?" He blinked out of his brief trance of bewilderment and shook his head. "No, that- What would that do? I already  _know_ that nothing bad is going to happen. I- I'm pretty sure, anyway... "

Roy smiled wearily. "I've lost count of how many sleepless nights I've been spared from just by knowing that someone is watching my back." While he has always been haunted by vivid nightmares filled of sand and blood, they have eased since then; all thanks to the people he trusted, no doubt. He wouldn't have been alive today if not for them, for more reasons than one.

Ed was silent for a moment as the proposal sunk in. A brief flicker of optimism sparked in his expression, then vanished immediately. "I don't think that would do anything, since you'd be here, and I'm-" he trailed off, pursing his lip. He looked to be deep in thought, or as deeply a sleep deprived teenager  _could_  be in the middle of the night.

"What?" Roy eventually asked after a long, quiet moment, failing to follow the kid's disjointed thought pattern. "What are you thinking?"

Fullmetal looked up at him again, then mirthlessly chuckled at himself as he pushed himself away from the wall and made for the door. "Nothing. I'll be fine; I'm going back to m- the room."

Before Roy could do anything to stop him, Ed placed a hand on the doorknob and nearly walked straight into the bare wall, failing to realize that it was already wide open. He then staggered backwards and stared between the doorway and the door itself for a moment, giving Roy enough time to walk into his view.

"Hold on, Fullmetal," he began, struggling to overlook what he just saw. "What were you going to say?" It may have just been him getting his hopes but, but he wanted to believe that Ed had an idea to help him get some sleep.

"I already said it's nothing," the teenager grumbled stubbornly. "Outta my way, Mustang. I'm already tried. I'll probably fall asleep as soon as I lay down."

"This has been going on for days, Fullmetal; I don't believe you." He crossed his arms. "I order you to tell me."

"You can't  _order_  me to do anything after work hours!"

"Oh, yes I can. Besides; my house, my rules."

Edward scowled and Roy smirked, knowing that he had already won.

"Fine, you stubborn-" Ed cut himself off and flinched, undoubtedly from the idea that he was so reluctant to bring up as it crossed his mind once more. "I was just thinking that..." He stopped again and bit his lip. "Come on, it wouldn't work anyway."

Roy remained silent, tacitly telling the kid that there was no way out of it. After an uncomfortable few seconds, Ed groaned and combed his fingers through his tangled bangs, gently pressing his palm over his bloodshot eye. "I was just thinking that... Your idea might work if- if I stayed in- in here," he said through his teeth, basically squirming from the discomfort that the concept brought him. "But you don't have to tell me that that's stupid, because I already know," he added on quickly, moving to step around the colonel.

Roy sidestepped into his path once again, refusing to let him off the hook quite yet.

Edward wanted to sleep in his room? That certainly wasn't anywhere near what Roy has guessed, but it was actually a sensible idea, once he thought about it. During the war, the knowledge that his bunk mate would potentially save him from Ishvalan assassins in the middle of the night was the only thing that got him any sleep at all. With that in mind, it would only make sense for Ed to rest easy if he knew for a fact that Roy was there to save him for whatever it was that he was afraid of.

But the thought of sharing not just a house but a room with his youngest subordinate was strange, to say the very least. However, just one look at Edward banished every conflicted thought that came to mind. He was no stranger to sleep deprivation; he knew just how much Ed was suffering, no matter how much he tried to hide it. He simply couldn't stand to watch as the young alchemist endured that torture without actually doing anything to truly help.

"Alright," Roy agreed, vaguely realizing that Ed was still trying to make excuses.

The blond stammered to a stop, then made an effort to recollect himself. "What?"

"Go grab you're stuff." He knew for a fact that Edward would much rather die than get anywhere near his bed, and wasn't particularly in the mood to offend him by asking. Besides, that level of embarrassment could very easily lead the boy into locking himself into the guest room. Roy was certain from the beginning that one of them would be sleeping on the floor.

"... What?" he asked again, emanating hesitation. "No, I-" he began, but was swiftly interrupted.

"Listen, Ed: I realize that this might feel awkward to you. But you also don't seem to understand what you're doing to yourself; if you continue to stay awake, you  _will_  run yourself into the ground. I should know. So I will do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn't happen. Whatever apprehension you have, get over it. Do I make myself clear?"

"But-"

"Do I make myself clear?" He repeated sternly, just as if they were back at the office. He hoped that by not giving Ed the choice, he would save the kid some pride.

Fullmetal said nothing at first, fists curled by his sides. After a moment, he exhaled deeply and some of the tension slipped away. "Alright, alright," he breathed and successfully stepped around the colonel and out the doorway. "Geez." Roy smiled faintly and sat on the edge of his bed again, certain that he heard a hint of relief in the kid's overall exasperated tone.

It seemed that they were on the same page from the beginning, because when Ed stumbled back into the room with an armful of blankets and pillows and collapsed onto the ground, purposefully using them to cushion his fall. Roy craned his neck to watch the kid as he positioned himself in front of the foot of the bed, almost entirely out of his range of sight.

"So you're gonna... stay awake?" Ed asked tentatively from his puddle of blankets.

"Yep," he answered tersely as the reality of the agreement sunk in. He briefly wondered if he could just wait an hour of two before falling asleep, but wasn't very keen on risking it. Fullmetal was allowing another show of trust at a time when he couldn't afford to take chances. Roy had to follow through on his promise, no matter how desirable the alternative was in this case.

The colonel shifted back towards the headboard and sat up against it, knowing that he would pass out if he did any less. He lost all visibility of the other alchemist, but he was certain that Ed would prefer it that way, considering the sensation of being watched was part of what originally caused all of this.

Roy got himself as comfortable as he could in that position and mentally prepared himself for the long night ahead, all while strongly hoping that his efforts wouldn't be in vain. It would all feel worth it if Ed would just fall asleep, if just for a few hours; that's all that he asked- just one step in the right direction. One measly step that had the potential to be a milestone.

"Mustang?" the kid whispered after a few minutes, almost too quietly for Roy to hear a amongst the roaring thunder and rain.

"Yeah?" He replied, staring absently at the far wall.

"... Nothing."

A knowing smile threatened his tired, deadpan expression as he quickly caught on to Ed's intention. He was checking to make sure the colonel stayed true to his word and hadn't fallen asleep. Knowing for sure that he was alert was likely the only way for Fullmetal to feel enough security to let his guard down.

Edward continued to softly call for him, but the increments between grew larger and larger as morning drew closer. Waiting for him to speak up again was one of the strongest forced that kept Roy awake throughout the whole night. He hoped that each instance would be the least, and feared hearing the boy's voice again.

At some point within the night, Roy was almost overwhelmed with a steadily growing sense of relief when the next call never came.


	10. Chapter 10

The crisp morning light effortlessly filled the room as rain softly drizzled down against the window and birds chirped in the distance. Their song lightened the air, as if to help fight back to gloom that had been accompanying the long lasting dreary weather.

Ed was mildly surprised when he opened his eyes and didn't see the plain wall that he had familiarized himself with since he first took up Mustang's guest room. Instead, he was staring at the dark wood of a bed frame from a makeshift nest made of blankets and pillows on the ground.

He nearly forgot that he ended up on Mustang's floor... But before Ed could really consider how weird that was, a new, more important thought struck him in the head with enough strength to encourage a small smile to spread across his face.

He slept.

He  _slept_.

He actually fell asleep for several hours straight and woke up without having a panic attack. He couldn't quite remember what he dreamt about, but he wasn't going to complain. Edward could recall brief images of blood and rain through his minds eye, but they were already mostly forgotten. If he had to guess, then Ed would say that he slept too deeply to dream as vividly as he usually did.

It was incredible- unfathomable- and so  _refreshing_. A conglomeration of nameless emotions created something else that Ed hadn't felt in what seemed like a long time. But overall, he was happy, relieved, content- the list went on as he found himself unable to give it a single label.

He always knew that he would undoubtedly get some sleep at some point- whether it was because his problems were solved or because his body simply gave out- but he was grateful all the same. There were always more unrealistic fears that told him he would never experience true rest again; and that was terrifying. To feel that painful exhaustion that made his eyes ache and his head throb every day and to be unable to trust his own limbs with simple tasks sounded like a form of torture. It was a concern that came to mind more frequently with every passing day.

But after last night, a fraction of the worries that weighted him down lifted; it was small and insignificant in comparison, but it was something. It was there, and he felt it, and he was so glad. Because he  _slept._

But this didn't entirely solve his sleep deprivation problems. His body still begged for more, but he knew that it was impossible for the time being. His brain was already spinning, and it would be impossible to shut it down. His eyes were sore, and it wouldn't be surprising if they were still bloodshot as well.

The blond pushed himself into a sitting position and examined the pile of blankets that he had created for himself the night before. For a moment, he idly wondered if he should sleep on the ground from now on, but already knew that that's not what he had to thank for the restful night.

Ed reached to grab hold of the end of the bed frame and pulled himself up to look over it. He wasn't sure if he should have been surprised or not to see Mustang sitting/laying awkwardly against the headboard with his head lowered to his chest. He had nothing more than the clothes on his back and a blanket covering his lower legs to protect him from the cold morning air. Judging by how his eyes moved rapidly below his eyelids and the strain that was vaguely evident on his visage, Ed couldn't quite tell if the man was awake or not- perhaps he was in some strange stage in between.

His presence had to be the only reason that Edward got any sleep at all. As hesitant as he was to admit it, there was no other logical explanation. Mustang stayed awake through the entire night simply to fulfill the young Elric's childish need to not be alone. He wanted to reprove himself for allowing it to happen in the first place, but he couldn't argue with the results.

But the question remained:  _why?_

Why would Mustang sacrifice his own sleep in his own home for Ed's sake? Would he do the same in that position?

He used to for Al. Just after he transferred his brother's soul into the suit of armor, he tried to stay up with Alphonse once they learned that he was incapable of falling asleep. It wasn't fair that only Al should suffer in such ways because of Ed's mistake. If he couldn't end his suffering, then the least he could do was share it. However, that was until Alphonse insisted that he stopped, which was an idea that his body was all too eager to agree to.

Edward stood up straight and glanced at the window, noting that the curtains were pulled to the sides and the blinds were cracked open enough to allow the light in. Mustang must have done that once the sun rose. Ed let it be since they were on the second floor, then looked back over to his superior officer.

He looked  _extremely_ uncomfortable. He wasn't quite sitting up, but his upper back and shoulder blades were still leaning back on the headboard; his neck was probably going to kill him once he was fully awake.

Ed bit his lip, wondering what he was supposed to do now. They had created a system of Mustang waking up first and preparing breakfast, but this put a wrench in the pattern. He supposed he could try to make something for himself. Surely Mustang would much rather get some sleep than cook at the moment anyway.

But regardless, Edward couldn't stand to walk away just yet. He had to repay the man for overlooking last night somehow.

Ed walked around the corner of the bed and hesitated for a moment as he looked down at the colonel again. His gaze then trailed over to the side table, where a small folded note was sitting precariously on the edge. He began to unfold it out of curiosity, but the events from several hours prior stopped him in his tracks before he could finish.

He set the paper back down, convinced that it was the message sent from Riece. Simply thinking about it began to revive a briefly forgotten fear. Ed shut his eyes and forced the trepidation down as best he could. There was nothing to worry about. He wasn't going to come back. At least, that's what Mustang said, but he suddenly felt more inclined to believe the man's words than ever before.

"Colonel," he began but his voice came out as a whisper. The man stirred slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey. Mustang." He poked his shoulder.

A tired groan formed in the man's throat as he rose his head and rubbed the back of his neck. He blinked and squint at the blond until his eyes decided to cooperate. "Yeah?" he eventually muttered, just as he did several times the night before, albeit groggily.

"It's morning," he continued, figuring that he should have planned what he was going to say before starting. "You should get some rest now." Mustang had been telling Ed to rest for days now, and now it was finally his turn to return the favor. How ironic.

Mustang watched him blankly for a moment, then looked towards the window. After a few seconds, he yawned and nodded simultaneously as he pulled a pillow closer to him. But before he could move further, the man paused and intently turned his heavy gaze back towards the teenager.

"Did you get any-" he yawned again, cutting himself off.

"Yeah, I did," Ed answered for him, allowing a thin smile despite himself. "Thanks."

Mustang smiled faintly in return and continued to get himself in a more comfortable position. "Great. There's food in the uh- the... the kitchen," he murmured slowly as he emanated exhaustion.

"Gotcha."

The older alchemist shifted into a more natural position and buried his head on the pillow to block out the light within a few short seconds. Ed stood there for a moment more before deciding that he really wanted to leave.

The blond moved towards the door and paused to make sure that he wasn't going to walk into the wall again before stepping into the hallway. But before he could get far, the memory of the makeshift nest on Mustang's floor appeared in his mind. Ed turned back around and crept back into the room as stealthily as he could manage to pick up the mess. Mustang seemed to be out-cold already, so he began to lift the pile of blankets into his arms. He didn't want the older alchemist to wake up and be reminded of Ed's pathetic display the night before; maybe if there was no evidence of it, he would just forget about it. But as he was struggling to get a decent grasp on the fabrics, he unconsciously found himself looking at the window, then at Mustang, then at the window again.

Once he stopped to consider it, the older alchemist did look like he was battling the sunlight, judging by the way he pressed his face as closely to the pillow as possible without suffocating. With a heavy sigh, Edward dropped the blankets from his arms and stepped over them to reach the window. After one quick glance outside, he tightened the blinds and pulled the curtains shut, effectively blocking out the dim sunlight. Mustang had visibly relaxed as soon as he did so.

Ed assumed that the colonel had opened them earlier to ensure that Ed didn't sleep in until noon, or maybe just to keep himself as awake as possible. But either way, he clearly didn't have the energy or the mind to get up himself and shut out the light. Upon seeing his reaction, Ed was glad he had taken the time to do it for him.

He told himself that he was just repaying the dept. Equivalent exchange.

He told himself the same thing when he grabbed hold of the blanket that had been kicked to the edge of the bed, and pulled it up to Mustang's shoulders. Besides a new calmness that seemed to wash over him, there was no other reaction.

Ed decided that he should get out of there before the ever-growing sense of embarrassment swallowed him whole. He heaved the nest of blankets again and staggered out into the hall and into the guest room, all while trying and failing to keep himself from thinking about the past five minutes.

He didn't quite know why he did that. Perhaps he just had the impression that Mustang would do the same for him, despite that being terribly out of character for the man he thought he had known for three years now. But then again, his original understanding of the colonel had been proven wrong time and time again within the last few days.

Besides, he didn't really want to risk messing with the heater, since he wasn't the one paying the bills. There simply wasn't any good reason to leave the colonel as he was, considering what he endured for Ed's sake. It just made sense. And he had already passed out beforehand- there was no need to justify his actions to Mustang, or himself for that matter.

_Just forget about it and move on._

The teenager carelessly dropped the bundle of blankets and pillows back onto the guest bed, lacking the energy to spread them out. With that done, he stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him, then trekked down the stairs.

Now he just had to figure out how exactly he was going to fend for himself with Mustang out of commission.

Not a problem.

But where to start...

He usually went to the cafeteria at the dorms or went out to eat. Al would occasionally whip something together when they had a kitchen to work with, despite being unable to taste any of it, so it was fair to say that Ed didn't have a whole lot of personal experience when it came to cooking.

He knew enough to get by, but working with an unfamiliar kitchen while the owner of said kitchen was asleep felt a bit strange.

After rummaging through the fridge for a few minutes, he settled for just pouring a bowl of cold cereal for himself. It wasn't the most sustainable choice, but he didn't really want to dirty the colonel's pots and pans. Plus, his motivation to actually cook something died once he saw the carton of milk sitting next to the eggs. It took all of his willpower just to keep himself from throwing the vile liquid out the window.

Edward ate in silence in his usual seat at the table, staring lazily at the opposing wall of the kitchen, tracing the shadows that hit it with his eyes. There wasn't exactly much else to look at anyway.

After days of the same routine, it was strange to suddenly be sitting by himself in the morning. Based off of his recent behavior, Ed was somewhat surprised that he didn't mind being alone, but something told him that that was only the case because he knew it wasn't permanent. Besides, Mustang was right; Riece wasn't coming back. He wasn't going to break into the house and throw another ominous note in Ed's face, then run back to taunt his victory to Al. Of course not. That wasn't...

Ed forced his gaze back down to the table before his mind could come up with any more unreasonable scenarios.

After emptying the bowl, he dropped it into the sink and went into the living room in search of some way to kill time. He was beginning to accept that he couldn't make any true progress on finding Al unless he had some assistance; in this case, Mustang. As much as he hated the fact, there was nothing he could do about it. Since he probably had a few hours to wait until the man woke up, Ed had a lot of time to do nothing.

He flipped the lights on, filling the originally darkened room with light as the blinds were still closed shut. Edward immediately noticed the radio sitting on the coffee table, but any thoughts of turning it on were instantly snuffed. He didn't want to risk hearing news broadcasters talking about him; he didn't want to know what the world thought about him.

It seemed that the only other thing to do was hole himself back in Mustang's study for hours on end.

Fine by him.

Edward had decided that he might as well continue his ever-going research on the illusive Philosopher's Stone and stepped into the miniature library. He picked himself out a nice stack of the oldest books he could find within the selection that he hadn't read before, and sat down on the large, comfortable chair in the corner.

His chances of finding any new information were slim, but it was always worth a shot. Besides, there was nothing else to do and he wanted to immerse himself in something to keep his other thoughts away.

Ed must have been sitting there for at least a few hours without finding much of note. However, the book he currently had opened briefly mentioned one of the many names for the stone. There was doubt that it would lead into anything useful, but he figured that he should at least note the title and the page for future reference, especially if it happened to go into greater detail later on.

After taking a moment to memorize the necessary information, the blond set the tome down to the side and made his way over to the desk in search for something to write it down with. But before he could open the first drawer, this eyes fell on the contents on the desk's surface and he paused all movement.

_Hero of the People Accused of Murder_

A small stack of newspapers were pushed into the corner of the desk, all in which were flipped to pages that mentioned him or Victor Tresler.

Ed had never taken the time to actually look at what covered the desk before, but now that he had, he wished that he didn't.

As he hesitantly shifted through the pages, he saw many pictures of himself, the man who had visited him multiple times in nightmares, and revealing photos of the crime scene.

He had been avoiding the newspapers in general ever since the day after  _that night._  As cowardly as it was, he didn't want to be faced with the reality of his actions in plain, emotionless black and white text. For that very reason, he wanted to push the collection of newspapers away and pretend that he never laid eyes on them, but something stopped him. A pointless stubbornness refused to let him as it urged him to read the articles and face the truth already.

There was most likely nothing the papers could tell him that he didn't already know, considering that he was there during the incident- but that wasn't what stopped him from putting them down and walking away. As silly as it seemed, part of Edward's mind just wanted to prove to himself that he  _could_. After keeping a distance from all radios and newspapers for almost two weeks straight, he had become exhausted of running away. He was exhausted of feeling so weak.

It would be a small victory, similar to the other night when he forced himself to open the front door only to see Riece staring back at him. But it was a victory all the same. There was nothing to fear. There was nothing to hide from. Ed refused to remain ignorant any longer.

The young alchemist chose one of the excerpts at random and skimmed through it, eyes picking out each familiar name or anything that particularly stuck out. He found himself reading over one specific section multiple times to clarify that he understood correctly.

What he thought he read simply didn't make sense. It just didn't add up. It went against everything that he thought he knew.

_The multiple charities and relief programs that Victor had founded will be passed down to his eldest son, as requested in his will._

Edward was lead to believe that Tresler was a selfish, indulging person who didn't give a damn for other human beings. So why did the paper say that he founded charities?

_"I just don't understand who would do such a thing," Victor's wife, Cindy Tresler said though tears during an interview. "My husband was such a kind man. He didn't make enemies; it simply wasn't possible."_

Ed felt sick.

A wave of nausea rushed over him and his chest felt hollow. His stomach lurched with unease, forcing him to place an unsteady hand on the back of the desk chair.

This didn't make any sense. Victory Tresler wasn't a good person! He couldn't have been. Because if he was, then that just made Ed guilty of something much worse than he originally thought.

A person's character did not matter when it came to life or death. Causing the death of a bad person was still murder, but causing the death of a good, innocent person was just... worse.

The newspaper slipped from Ed's shaken hands as he staggered backwards, blindly searching for the leather chair. Before he could reach it, his legs gave out and fell into the seat, mind spinning. He rubbed his eyes but the images and voices of  _that night_ flooded back regardless. The night he had been deceived and lied to.

_"There's no need to hesitate," Riece mollified in a sympathetic and almost concerned tone. Edward returned it by glaring daggers at the man. "If anyone is deserving of death, it's Victory Tresler. Perhaps you've heard of him. He's a demon hiding under the guise of a saint. The world sees him as a charitable person, but he secretly has quite the reputation underground."_

_Ed remained silent, refusing to so much as humor Riece with a response. His hands twitched at his sides, wanting nothing more than to punch that man in the jaw. He just wanted to get Al and get out of the warehouse._

_"I only know this because I once got the opportunity to work rather closely with him," the older man continued factually. "But just like everyone else who gets too close to him, I ended up suffering because of it."_

_"So this is for revenge?" The blond snapped, lacing his voice with disgust._

_Riece lit up, thoroughly amused. "Revenge? Oh, no, it's nothing like that. I'm not one to hold grudges anyway. This is just something that needs to happen. I don't expect you to understand this, so don't worry about it," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But you must agree that Tresler is of no benefit to humanity. He infects everything he touches. Clearly, society cannot allow him to continuously cause harm everywhere he goes. Therefor, he must be taken care of."_

_Riece smiled strangely once again, his eyes burning with a barely-contained excitement. "And I've decided that you will be the one to carry it out."_

He was such an idiot.

Edward was a fool for believing him. He should have looked into it himself- he should have researched Tresler.

But who was he kidding? A time limit was put into place, leaving him severely crippled and unable to do much else. Or else Al's life would be at risk. And he just couldn't allow that.

Ed cringed at his own thought process. How dare he try to justify his actions like that? Death was death. Murder was murder.

However, he would do anything for Al. If it came down to it, his brother would say the very same, despite the fact that each of them would tell the other not to.

The blond wrapped his arms around the arm of the chair and stared blankly at the floor as he fought to keep the nausea at bay, wondering what this new piece of information changed.

It  _should_  change absolutely nothing. What's done was done, and there wasn't a single thing Ed could do about it besides sulk. If it didn't change anything in the eyes of the public, then nothing should change for him either. In fact, it could easily just make things worse on his end.

What if he tried to convince someone that he wasn't guilty because someone lied and told him that Tresler was a criminal? It would sound pathetic.  _Of course_ he was guilty! It didn't take a genius to figure that much out.

He vaguely noticed the click of the doorknob turning and the creak of the door hinges twisting.

Ed never had any hope of justifying himself in the first place.

"Fullmetal?"

He didn't deserve to.

"Ed?"

A shadow of movement flickered across his vision, drawing the alchemist's attention away from his brooding. Mustang stood in the doorway, his hair in tired disarray as he watched Edward with a disquiet air. For once, Ed didn't bother to round up a sense of false composure at the sight of company. Instead, he leaned back against the chair's arm and allowed his gaze to drop.

He knew he should put more effort into covering up his emotions, knowing that questions were soon to follow if he didn't. In spite of that, he lacked the strength. The information that a good, well-liked family man had died because of him sapped him of his energy.

"Are you alright?" the colonel needlessly asked as he allowed his hand to drop from the doorknob.

Ed looked up at the older alchemist for a moment, unable to find the will to answer his question. Overall, he should have been fine. This new revelation should have meant nothing. But instead of telling him that, the blond rested his cheek against the side of the chair as his eyes subconsciously landed on the desk across the room.

Roy followed his gaze. After a soundless moment, he noticed the disheveled pile of newspapers. "Oh yeah; we're still trying to figure out the motive behind Tresler's murder." He must have assumed that Ed was upset by the case's lack of progress.

A small, pained sound formed at the base of Ed's throat as if he had just been punched. All of the answers were sitting right under Mustang's nose, but he was too confident and trusting in Ed to realize it. How was the colonel going to react when he learned the truth? How could Edward dare to remain in his house after what he had done; and after refusing to cooperate with the search? He didn't deserve to stay.

"He didn't have any known enemies, and no one gained anything because of his death. It's unlikely that his family wanted him dead, partially because of how distraught they were."

"Stop." The word escaped Ed's lips before he could put a fraction of thought into it.

"What?" Mustang asked after a beat. He didn't seem offended for being interrupted, or even particularly confused. If anything, he just wanted clarification.

Ed exhaled as he stopped to consider what exactly it was that he wanted. "Stop talking."

There was a pause, filled only by the gentle tapping of rainwater against the window pane. Mustang stepped further into the study, pushing the door almost closed behind him, leaving it slightly ajar. He settled into the desk chair, keeping a calm, unreadable stare on Ed. They remained in silence for several minutes.

It wasn't awkward, strained silence that Edward had expected. It was almost soothing to sit there quietly with another person, listening only to the rainfall and the low, almost inaudible sounds of breathing.

Ed didn't hate the rain as Mustang did. He wasn't too particularly fond of it, especially lately, but when it was soft and harmless as it was in that moment, it reminded him of the simpler times in Resembool. During the monsoon season, it would often rain steadily for several days straight, but it wasn't violent enough to truly interfere with their everyday lives. There was a charm to it. He remembered sitting by the window with his mother and Al, watching the waves of gray stretch out across the sky as far as the eye could see, carefully watering the land. Sometimes a fire was burning in the fireplace, and sometimes there wasn't.

Even as he looked out towards the dark, cold outside world, the house was always warm, especially with Mom there. He always felt safe back then. He felt safe...

Wait. What?

Stop.

Edward blinked and pushed the fond memories away. Those days had nothing to do with his current situation. There was no correlation between then and now, especially since he was in Mustang's house; his superior officer.

Ed glanced over to the man, who was staring solemnly into space in his own thoughts. Recognizing the eyes on him, he returned the blond's stare.

"How did you sleep?" Roy asked suddenly, bringing all thought away from the earlier topic. He spoke with a controlled, tired calmness, but he seemed genuinely curious.

"... Fine," Ed replied after a beat of hesitation. His response felt like an understatement considering the overwhelming gratitude he felt as soon as he woke up. He was just happy to get any sleep at all. In actuality,  _fine_  was the most accurate description if he were to compare it to how he usually slept before all of this began.

"Good to hear it," Mustang answered easily with a smile in his tone, apparently unfazed by the mediocre answer. "Did you get anything to eat?"

He blinked wordlessly at the colonel, reveling in how strange it was to hear him ask about such normal things. They had been sharing space for a few days now, but he was beginning to doubt he would ever get used to it. It didn't sound natural to hear those casual words in Mustang's voice.

Nonetheless, he nodded. "Yeah. Cereal," he answered the unasked question. Mustang responded with a short  _hmm_ of acknowledgment, undoubtedly thinking of what else to say.

Meanwhile, Ed's thoughts strayed straight back to the true matter at hand.

Mustang still thought he was innocent.

He may have claimed that Edward wasn't a criminal, but what the hell did he know? He didn't know the truth; he didn't know anything. And yet, Ed still had the audacity to take up a room in his house. He was given all the time in the world to admit the truth, but he refused to even consider it.

It was selfish.

He was selfish.

He was trapped on a slope, given only one direction to go: down. As much as he hated it, his only choice was to begrudgingly follow the path set out before him until the bitter end, and do his very best to hold onto the baseless hope that there may be another path or two before he crashed at the bottom.

But until then, he couldn't do anything else besides endure for as long as he could. If that meant being a selfish coward, then so be it.

Unable to bare his own treacherous thoughts any longer, he leaned over the side of the chair and picked up another book, almost forgetting that he wasn't alone anymore.

* * *

When Edward started reading again, he brought a swift end to any and all possible conversations. Roy remained where he was for several minutes, mind spinning with questions and possible solutions, wanting nothing more than to just open the kid's head, find whatever was bothering him, and fix it all in one single motion.

But nothing could ever be that easy.

By the time he finally woke up again, it was nearing noon. Overall, he didn't get much more than a few hours of rest, but it would have to do.

As lunchtime grew closer, he decided to use that as an excuse to interrupt Fullmetal's reading, but his attempt failed to bare fruit. Either Ed had a large breakfast, or he lost his appetite. Roy doubted it was the former, considering the spotless state of his kitchen.

At first, he thought Ed was simply perturbed by seeing his name in the papers and the many accusations that were within them, but that hypothesis didn't quite add up. It wasn't a secret that the rest of the country currently suspected him to be guilty, so seeing it in print shouldn't have been particularly impacting.

Perhaps he was distracted by the memory of Riece showing up the night before. It was definitely unsettling and that would explain Ed's sudden withdrawn demeanor, but that wasn't the impression Roy got when he decided to mention it. He reminded the kid that Riece wasn't going to come back, but Ed just muttered a distracted "I know that" without sparing the colonel a glance.

He was at a loss.

When he got a phone call later in the afternoon, he was expecting the worse, judging how the rest of the day had gone so far. However, he was thrown off when it was Hughes asking to meet him at their usual bar for a drink.

Ideally, he should have turned the offer down since he was playing sick, but at the time, alcohol sounded incredibly inviting. When they made plans to meet around seven, Roy re-entered the study and told Ed. Or at least, he  _tried_ to tell Ed. The kid was immersed in a book and didn't give the colonel much of an audible response, no matter how he tried to get his attention. Although, he didn't try particularly hard to do so. He figured that the blond would be in the very same state by the time he got back, so he left it at that and walked out the door.

Roy didn't want to admit that he was getting used to the constant stream of rainfall. Without so much as thinking about it, he grabbed a heavy coat and an umbrella before walking out, covering himself immediately as he approached his car. He caught a glimpse of his misting breath on his way across the sidewalk and wondered if the rain would turn into snow soon.

The car ride consisted of him absentmindedly cursing the weather for slowing down traffic, and reminding himself not to mention anything pertaining to Ed's appearance to Hughes. As far as he knew, the kid was still missing along with his brother. Although, he wasn't too worried about giving anything anyway; after years of being a servant to the government, he had long since learned to avoid loose lips, especially when beer was involved.

After a roughly ten minute long drive, Roy stepped into the bar and was immediately greeted with laughter, music and very dim lighting. It was just as crowded as he expected it to be on a Saturday night.

Maes was sitting at the counter, eyeing the selection and talking to the bartender, appearing oblivious to the chaotic world around him. Roy wordlessly approached and took the next seat over.

"Hey," he greeted sounding just as devoid of energy as he felt. The few hours of sleep he managed to get that morning had already caught up with him, but it certainly wasn't something he hadn't dealt with before.

"How are you feeling?" Maes asked, swiveling the bar stool slightly as he directed his attention towards his friend. He had a faint smile on his face, which had more or less become his most natural expression over the years.

"Tired," he answered truthfully, eyes falling forward to rest on the extensive selection of beverages that lined the wall of the back bar.

"I can see that," the lieutenant colonel replied easily as he moved to rest his elbows on the counter. "At first, I thought you were just trying to get out of doing paperwork, but you really do look pretty drained. I'm surprised you decided to take me up on my offer in the first place. I usually have to drag you, kicking and screaming."

Roy chuckled despite himself. He really couldn't get anything passed Hughes, it seemed. "Yeah, well... I owe you a drink anyway."

Maes' smile was overtaken by curiosity and he quirked an eyebrow. "What for?"

The alchemist stifled another small laugh as he waved the bartender back over. "Doesn't matter," he said vaguely and switched focus to place the order.

Roy idly decided that he would buy Maes a drink as soon as his friend made it perfectly clear that he was aware that secrets were being kept from the team. Not only did Hughes keep the others out of his suspicions, he also made it known that he wasn't going to pry. He trusted that Roy knew what he was doing, and decided to leave it to him for the time being- and for that, he was incredibly thankful.

It sounded silly in hindsight, but part of Roy figured that neither Maes or Riza would trust him to keep his secrets from everyone because nothing liked to go his way when it was raining. Anyone could take the weather as a bad omen or something equally ridiculous, and use it as an excuse to pry.

But that wasn't the case; both of them had reason to believe that he knew something about Edward's whereabouts that he refused to disclose, but they had both chosen sit back for the time being.

They likely didn't even realize the full extent of how reassuring that was.

He took a grateful sip from the mug of beer that had been placed before him. "So what's been happening at HQ lately?" Roy asked, party to change the topic and partly because he was curious. Missing time at work was always risky; a lot could occur in two days.

Maes sat back in the bar stool and stiffly rolled his shoulder, giving Roy a peculiar look as he seemed to be debating something with himself. The Flame Alchemist narrowed his eyes at the brief stalling, waiting to get an answer as he began to expect the worst.

"Well," his friend drawled. "The higher-ups decided that Ed's involvement with the Tresler Murder case is bad for publicity, so they want to find him and settle the dispute as soon as possible."

"What's there to dispute?" Roy cut in rhetorically. "It's obvious that Fullmetal isn't guilty. This would probably be over by now if they'd try to find the real culprit."

Maes smiled mirthlessly. "You know that's not how it works."

Roy sighed, because he  _did_ know that. They wouldn't search for the true guilty party until the person who is suspected is found. But with that said, he still had every right to complain to his heart's content- when he wasn't on the clock, that is.

"And anyway, there's more," Hughes continued as the alchemist glanced back at him. "They're really starting to buckle down on the search; it seems like another colonel might officially join the case."

"What?" Roy demanded and straightened up. Fullmetal was directly involved, and he was  _his_ subordinate. He had no interest in sharing the case with anyone. He had things perfectly under control, even if it didn't seem like it to anyone else but him... If he was forced to work with another colonel in order to progress, then they wouldn't get anywhere at all. "Why didn't anyone tell me about this until now?"

"I just heard about it yesterday afternoon," Maes answered with a shrug. "I told Riza and she probably told the rest of your staff. I thought about calling you last night, but I figured that nothing could be done about it at the time, and you needed the rest."

Great. Just great. The one time he pretends to be sick in order to get out of work,  _this_  happens. Just his luck.

Well, at least he was at a bar.

Roy huffed and took a gulp of his beer, quietly seething as the new dose of information sunk in. If the generals had decided that they wanted more people working on this case, then there was nothing he could do about it, especially since their  _precious public image_ was put at risk.

Thunder rolled in the background amungst the voices of the other occupants, threatening him with a painfully familiar sense of uselessness. But he couldn't relent to it just yet- he could still make the most out of this.

It was slow going, but he was steadily getting Fullmetal to open up. With enough time, he was certain that he could figure out the truth behind Tresler's death.

"Oh, and there's one more thing," Maes started again after clearing his throat. He looked at Roy carefully as if he was preparing for a bomb to go off.

Roy's evident annoyance dropped into a deadpan expression as he awaited more bad news. "What?"

"They've also decided to start looking within the ranks in order to find Edward."

Roy paused with his mouth gaping open slightly as he struggled to find the words to properly express the frustration and shock that mixed within his mind.

"Why?"

Maes took a moment to drink from his mug. "I'm not sure if you know this, since you got sick at the same time, but there has been a pretty steady stream of sightings of him since the murder until two days ago. They completely stopped. As far as anyone at Central is aware, Edward is only familiar with military personnel, so rumors are going around that one of us is secretly harboring him."

Roy broke his stare away from his friend in favor of glaring at the golden liquid before him.

He was a fool.

He knew that people would notice the decrease in sightings as soon as he ushered Ed into his house, but he didn't expect them to turn to look within the military so quickly. He thought he would have more than two measly days to deal with that issue.

It seemed like Central Command was all too eager to point fingers at each other.  _Decrease the competition,_  he thought grimly.

Roy turned his gaze back to Hughes, who he caught watching him carefully in the corner of his eye. He timely covered it up by taking another sip of his beer, as a new concern flickered within the colonel's mind:

Did Maes piece it all together? It certainly wouldn't take a genius at this point... He had been absent from work for two days now, the exact same time that the sightings of Fullmetal had completely ceased. Once he stopped to think about it, it became painfully clear that anyone with half a brain could figure it out.

But Maes wasn't a threat. In fact, he wasn't even a concern. If his friend did discern that Roy was the one harboring Edward, he would never put either of them at risk. Worst case scenario, he would try to butt in and help.

No, the real threat was everyone else at Central Command who was staying up to date on the case in general.

He shouldn't have missed both days. He allowed his concern for Ed's well-being to interfere with his work and the greater scheme of things, and he was now paying the price. It sounded heartless when he put it like that, but he was doing all of this in the first place  _because_ of his concern for Ed. While he wanted to be there for the kid in times like these, Roy would be left with nothing if he started to slack off at work.

It won't happen again.

He would just have to put twice the effort into the case in order to draw suspicion away from him.

With that decided, he ordered another drink.

* * *

Roy fumbled with his key ring until he managed to open the door, expecting the lights to be off and for the house to be devoid of life, just as he had left it. Edward was most likely still cooped up in the study, lost in his own little world of alchemy.

He was mildly surprised to see that the living room and kitchen lights were on, however. He hadn't quite noticed before when he was walking up the driveway thanks to how tightly the window's blinds were shut, but didn't think much of it.

It was getting quite late and he was absolutely exhausted, so Roy decided that he would bid Ed a good night and head upstairs to finally get some much-anticipated sleep. He pushed open the door to the study and stood in the doorway for several long seconds, checking the room over multiple times to ensure that his eyes weren't simply playing tricks on him.

Ed wasn't there. His neat stack of alchemy books remained at the foot of the large leather chair, but there was no sight of the blond. Even though the pleasant buzz had long since fled from his head, Roy couldn't bring himself to get worked up over it just yet.

Before he had the time to consider the other possibilities of the teen's whereabouts, a rush of uneven footsteps from upstairs settled all unspoken worries. Roy gently pushed himself away from the door frame and made for the staircase, but a quickening flurry of steps charging down the stairs caused him to stop where he was, lest he get trampled.

A frantic Edward Elric tore down the stairs and skid to the stop, nearly sliding off balance. He flailed his arms to keep himself upright then jabbed an accusing, shaken finger at the colonel. Roy returned his stare by looking unfazed, yet slightly confused.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Ed demanded, his very voice tremulous with manic fear.

Oh.

Sensing a full blown conversation, Roy turned and sat down at the one of the sofas that centered his living room, watching Fullmetal from across the coffee table.

"I tried to tell you that I was heading out for a bit," he answered, feeling the need to defend himself as if he was being reproved by a nagging housewife.

"You could have tried a little harder," Ed exclaimed as he exasperatedly ran a hand through his hair. "I thought you died or something!"

Roy stared at him incredulously. "What?"

"I- I dunno know. I mean, anything could have happened and I- just don't disappear like that!" he stammered but the tension was beginning to sink out of his shoulders.

"Then maybe you should listen when people are talking to you."

Edward glared at him and fumed quietly for a moment. "Maybe I would, if you weren't such a bastard."

Roy easily overlooked the insult as a new thought occurred to him, tempting a victorious grin to stretch across his face. "Wait- you were worried about me?" If Ed was led to believe that something bad happened to him and became so panicked because of it, then that had to be the only explanation.

Fullmetal immediately flushed. "I was not!"

The colonel's knowing smile widened. "You were and you know it. There's no denying it now, Fullmetal."

The kid's aghast expression swiftly returned to a glare. "Are you drunk?"

Roy chuckled at his expense, but decided not to answer. It would be simpler for Ed to believe that he was intoxicated, even though that wasn't the actuality. He and Maes made sure to wait for the effects of the alcohol to wear down before driving back to their homes. Thankfully, they didn't have too much.

"How did you know I was drinking?"

Ed grinned smugly. "So I was right," he observed almost under his breath. "I can smell it."

"Really," he mused for a moment, leaning back in the couch. "Well for future reference, if I'm ever gone around this time, it's probably for the same reason."

"Or you can just let me know next time," the blond glowered.

"How do I know you'll listen next time?"

"I will, if it'll spare me from another conversation like this."

Roy smirked to himself, fully enjoying the irritated bite in Fullmetal's voice and the scowl on his face. It had been a while since they did any of the usual banter and- if he were to be quite honest with himself- he was beginning to miss it.

"Well, I'm here now," he breathed as he stretched his arms out, longing to get upstairs and pass out on his comfortable bed. But speaking of sleep... Roy looked up at Ed, who remained standing on the other side of the table. He looked tired, but that didn't mean much these days, considering how he  _always_ looked tired. "Do you think you'll be able to get any sleep tonight?"

As relieved as he was that Ed managed to get some rest the night before, that didn't automatically solve all of their problems. And he doubted he was alone in thinking that he'd rather not let the whole sleeping-on-his-floor thing become a habit.

"Maybe."

"Ed," Roy started, giving the kid a hard stare to tacitly tell him that he wasn't just asking as a pleasantry. He truly wanted to know, because they were both aware that he wouldn't do nothing about it if the answer was no.

Ed's golden eyes fell to the ground as he seriously contemplated the question once more. "I think... it's possible."

Roy kept his gaze on the teenager to see if he would continue. But when his stare was returned with silence, he shrugged and assumed that that was the best he was going to get. From the sounds of it, he guessed that Ed would actually try to get some sleep, but figured that it wouldn't last long.

One step at a time.

"Well," he began and yawned, then pushed himself up from the sofa. "Let me know if you need anything." His offer was sincere, but he highly doubted that Ed would actually take him up on it anytime soon.

Nonetheless, he rounded the table when Fullmetal nodded tersely. As he passed Ed on his way to the stairs, he absentmindedly ruffled the boy's hair, failing to notice his stunned expression that was left in his wake as he disappeared from sight for the night.


	11. Chapter 11

Roy gave his uniform an assuring tug as he scrutinized his appearance in the mirror. After running his fingers through his bangs to adjust them to the perfect position, he stepped into the hall, satisfied.

Four days had passed since had last gone to work. He usually despised Mondays with a burning intensity, but today, he was actually eager to get to the office. His extended weekend had been very productive overall and in doing so, had given him much to work on.

Most importantly, he had learned that Riece had kidnapped Alphonse and received an extensive description of his appearance. When he called the office after that little discovery, he intended to get one of his men to compare Ed's report to the records, since his first attempt was very rushed. However, the team became swamped with paperwork, which was most likely an attempt to keep them still as the order to share the Tresler case was being process, as Hughes had warned him about. Once he learned that final detail, everything began to make sense.

Roy expected to still have some time until another colonel is brought on to  _help_ , so he was motivated to get as much done before then; especially since it directly involved Edward.

With the blond alchemist now in his mind, Roy stopped himself in front of the guest room door and calmly hit his knuckled against the surface.

There was no response. The colonel flipped open his pocket watch and quickly discerned that he was running out of time. He had to make this quick. The memory of Ed's little panic attack Saturday night was still fresh in his mind and kept him from simply walking out the front door without a word.

"Fullmetal," he called, knocking again. When his attempt was greeted by silence once again, he warned the kid that he was coming in, then pushed the door open.

He paused mid-step as a wave of relief washed over him at the sight of Ed sleeping. He wasn't just staring blankly into space; no, he was actually, truly sleeping. He was sprawled out on his back, half covered by a disordered pile of sheets, and with his stomach out, no less.

Roy rolled his eyes and he stepped further into the room, but the light humor quickly withered when he noticed the pain and discomfort that was etched into Edward's face.

The colonel already had some misgivings about waking the teen up to inform him that he was going to work, but after seeing his state, he couldn't bring himself to ignore it. While it was true that Ed needed all the sleep he could get, Roy doubted that anyone could honestly call the kid's current state  _restful._

He opened his mouth to call out to the kid again, but a new thought crawled into his mind and quickly became the most favorable option, seeing as he may be able to save Ed some of his dignity. The alchemist stepped back into the hall and swiftly pulled the poor shut, then waiting a few seconds to allow the sound to reverberate through the hall. After a moment, he cleared his throat and slowly entered once again.

Ed had blinked awake and now stared wide-eyes at the door as his chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. It wasn't clear whether he was startled by the noise, or the dream itself. He was just beginning to recompose himself when Roy let himself in.

"Morning," the older man greeted casually as Ed stared at him.

"Hey," the kid breathed and pulled himself into a sitting position, allowing his loose blond hair to fall down his shoulders. His breathing slowed to a more manageable speed as he scrambled his tired mind for something else to say. "Uh... what do you want?"

Roy stifled an amused smile. Despite Ed's blunt word choice, he was clearly too shaken to bother with his usual rash demeanor. "I'm heading off to work. I'll be looking into digging up anything on Riece and I'll call the house line if I find anything."

Edward perked up as the topic had piqued his interests. Meanwhile, the colonel was smirking internally. This would mark the first day that Roy wouldn't be around to keep an eye on the slightly unstable kid since he chased him into his kitchen. He wasn't sure what the blond would end up doing if he was alone, but the subtle hint would at least keep him in the house. Ed's paranoid mindset would not allow him to leave for a minute if there was a chance of Roy calling in to tell him about Riece, and therefor Al.

"Okay," the blond eventually said as he suppressed a yawn. Roy wasn't sure if he saw a hint of disappointment or if Ed was just still groggy. The latter seemed more likely to him, anyway. If anything, he assumed the kid was relieved at finally getting some time to himself after all this time.

"You'll have to fix something up for yourself as well; I would have prepared breakfast, but I'm already running late," Roy added as he gave his silver pocket watch another glance.

Edward nodded and shifted his weight in the bed. "Kay. See you later then."

Roy returned the farewell, then closed the door behind him as he left. He took a moment to wonder if anything was left unsaid, but tossed the thought aside and hurried down the stairs.

* * *

Roy sensed that something was off as soon as he stepped into the building half an hour late. People's eyes strayed onto him for a bit longer than usual when he walked by, and they were especially careful to keep their muttering out of earshot. It was a fantastic sign that today was not going to go well.

 _Just what I need on a Monday morning,_  he thought bitterly as he strolled down the halls, feigning ignorance to their stares.

As if to prove his point, Roy was met with five sets of eyes, all with varying levels of apprehension as soon as he entered his office.

Fuery and Breda were sitting at their desks as Havoc, Falman and Hawkeye stood around them, creating a disjointed circle, giving off the impression that they were previously debating something ferociously before he interrupted them.

The room became deathly silent as he removed his greatcoat and hung it up. They all watched him as if they were waiting for him to speak. Why, however, he couldn't be sure, considering he was the only one present who was currently in the dark.

"Sir," Hawkeye began carefully. Roy caught a glimpse of concern in her sherry eyes, which was reason enough for him to worry. "Colonel Douglas is waiting to speak with you in your office.

 _Douglas?_  Roy mouthed the name, both perplexed and frustrated. Had they decided to assign another colonel to the case so quickly? And without even telling him first? If so, then he would probably have "misplaced paperwork" to blame for that.

"How long has he been here?" Roy asked quietly, not bothering to hide his displeasure from his team.

"About ten minutes."

Perhaps it was a good thing that he was late. Because now, he had a few precious seconds to figure out what he was going to say to the man. He was probably going to be asked some questions, most likely referring to Ed. He had to be ready for them.

Hawkeye must had been thinking the same thing when she caught his gaze with a hard, meaningful look.

 _Be careful,_ she seemed to say.

He nodded and added an arrogant smirk.  _I will._

He held the eye contact for a second more, before turning around to face the others. The four men all returned the look with assuring nods and grins.

They all knew that their superior officer was in a bind, but with one glance at them, Roy knew that they wouldn't say anything that could potentially harm him, if it came down to it. They were all tacitly on the same page, as any great team should be. The thought alone as enough to tug an honest smile onto his lips.

After giving them all a brisk nod, he steeled himself and walked into his inner office.

Henry Douglas rose from his seat on the couch upon Roy's entrance with the same hardened expression that seemed to be the only one he possessed. He had short, sandy blond hair and round glasses that were a harsh juxtaposition to his rather square face and severe features.

"Good morning, Colonel Douglas," Roy greeted as pleasantly as he dared. "I apologize for the wait; traffic was atrocious."

The stiff man nodded, appearing entirely unimpressed. "I'm sure it was," he replied, simply as a barely tolerable pleasantry. If he wanted to cut to the chase, then Roy was more than happy to oblige.

"So what can I help you with?" the Flame Alchemist asked as he moved to stand behind his desk. Let the man know what he was speaking to Roy in his own office, his domain, his sanctuary- his castle.

Douglas faced the other colonel with his hands clasped behind his back. "I'm sure you're aware that the Tresler case has not been progressing as anticipated. Therefore, I have been assigned to assist until the matter is resolved."

A grim smile threatened Roy's falsely calm expression. "They certainly didn't waste any time." He had to wonder just how long this concept had been on the table before it was put into action. He was quite used to the military dragging it's feet in regards to matters that concerned him, most likely due to his reputation among the higher-ups. But in this case, moving any slower would just make them look bad. They certainly moved quickly when it was convenient.

"Oh?" Douglas started, raising an eyebrow. "Did you already hear about this?"

Roy wasn't sure what the man was looking for, but he wasn't going to risk dragging Hughes under the bus. "I assumed it was only a matter of time."

"In that case, it seems that you're quite aware of our situation."

"Perfectly. The longer this takes, the more it damages the military's reputation." He wanted to say that he didn't give two shits about the military's reputation, but that wasn't entirely true. More accurately, he knew that there was no saving their image until someone new came into power to change things; ideally, himself.

Besides, he was already much worse off in the public eye than Colonel Douglas and the others, considering his role as a State Alchemist.

He nodded once, expression unchanging as if he had only one setting. "Precisely. We must find the Fullmetal Alchemist as soon as possible."

"I agree," Roy lied skillfully through his teeth.

"With that said," the other colonel began, swiftly creating a new tangent. "I imagine that working on this case is rather difficult for you, considering the involvement of your subordinate."

_Ah, there it is._

"Not at all," he answered easily, feigning a dark determination, even as the mere existence of the case gnawed away at him with every passing day. "Fullmetal's behavior reflects directly onto me, as his superior. I am all the more driven to find him, and the truth." That at least, wasn't a lie.

"I see," the colonel mused with a small nod and a tone so stale, that even Roy couldn't determine if he was convinced or not.

"Does that surprise you?" Roy dared to ask, figuring that he didn't have much to lose to the man at that point.

He raised an eyebrow, looking as amused as that expressionless face could. "To be fair, Colonel Mustang, there's a reason as to why there was some dispute about you leading this case." The dark haired man gave him an inquiring look, silently inviting him to continue. "The Fullmetal Alchemist has been under your command for roughly three years now; naturally, some would expect you to become biased."

Roy barely repressed an indifferent scoff. "Nonsense. I'd like to see that Fullmetal is innocent, but doing my job comes first." At least, that was the image he often tried to project. He rarely did anything that would truly put his job at risk, since he had to be employed in order to become Fuhrer, but he would make exceptions for his subordinates; he just didn't want people to necessarily know that.

"Fair enough," the taller man said just before he briskly moved the conversation on. "So since we'll be working together on this matter, I wonder: when was the last time you had any contact with Edward Elric?"

Roy faked his best impression of a sincere, contemplative expression. Thankfully, this was one of the questions that he had prepared before walking into the room. "That would be two days before the morning Tresler's body was found." He knew the date, but it was better to not look  _too_  prepared.

"You haven't seen any sign of him since then?"

"That's correct," he lied, allowing the slightest hit of strain in his voice, as if he was annoyed with being forced to repeat the obvious.

"Alright," Douglas breathed. "I would also like to ask some questions to your staff as well."

Roy fought to keep the tempting glare off of his visage. The man had the gall to openly suspect him and his team in his own office. He wanted to coldly reject the request just to spite him, but innocent men had nothing to hide. Besides, he was certain that they were all on the same page, now that they were given time to prepare while he distracted the colonel.

"Of course."

"I also expect to hear updates on any advancements you come across."

 _Yeah right,_  Roy thought sourly. Douglas probably hoped that his team would fail his little  _inspection_ so he could take the case for himself.

"Likewise," he replied tersely. He was swiftly running out of the energy required to deal with the stiff man. But thankfully, he seemed to be satisfied for the moment.

They both exited the inner office but when Roy stopped by his other desk, Douglas continued out the door, much to his relief. But minutes later, his subordinates were called out of the office, one by one, all to be questioned privately.

It was no secret that what Douglas was doing didn't exactly follow the protocol, but they all understood that filing suspicion on all six of them would kill too much time and create far too much paperwork. Considering that time was Douglas' top priority, Mustang could hardly blame him.

But it was infuriating all the same.

Both colonels knew very well that the moment he complained, it would increase the suspicion that was cast on him. It was always assumed, but with the new knowledge that many were against him taking on the case in the first place, he couldn't afford to take any risks.

Besides, his men could handle themselves. They knew what to say and what not to say. If this ever got out, they would all be taking bullets for him, but that just made him all the more motivated to reign in complete control over this situation; risks be damned.

Roy was almost appalled that anyone would dare suspect his staff in the first place. If one of them was sheltering Fullmetal instead, then that would suggest insubordination. Never mind the fact that it was he who was truly hiding Ed and that they are equally willing to take risks for each other- the mere idea that any of his men couldn't be trusted was just  _laughable._ He should have been the only one to fall under suspicion.

But that clearly wasn't the case as Havoc walked back into the office, having being the last to be questioned.

"They're really paranoid, aren't they?" The blond mused solemnly after he shut the door behind him and wandered back to his desk. While the impromptu interrogation had only lasted a few minutes, it looked as if it had drained the energy from him.

"I hope this will stop the suspicions towards us," Fuery breathed dishearteningly.

"Douglas probably just wants to get me demoted to decrease the competition," Roy suggested lightly as he leaned back in his chair. Since the questioning began, he had remained mostly speechless until he decided how to proceed after this newest development.

"The consequences of hiding Edward from the military may be worse than demotion," Hawkeye added calmly, glancing at Roy in the corner of her eye. He decided not to grace her comment with a verbal response. Instead he just chuckled quietly and allowed his eyelids to drop for a moment.

Hawkeye was completely correct. And considering how popular he was at Central Command, Roy doubted that there wasn't any chance of being let off with a stern warning if this ever got out. No, his many enemies would much rather see to it that he could never get a job in Amestris again, if they could help it.  
But sadly for them, that simply wasn't going to happen, because he wasn't going to get caught. It wasn't an option. In fact, once he became Fuhrer, he would look back on these days and  _laugh_.

This was all going to work out somehow.

Speaking of work, he still had to look into that Riece character. Douglas was most likely too preoccupied with catching up on the finer details of the case to get on his back, anyway, so he should still have some time...

Roy opened his eyes, planning to make an announcement, but he was cut short. Havoc was standing beside his own desk, but was yet to sit down. Instead, his hands were curled into anxious fists at his sides and he was giving Breda a strange look. Breda silently replied, telling Roy only that the two long-time friends were having some kind of tacit conversation. He and the other three simply watched, unable to decipher.

Finally, Havoc whirled around to face the colonel with a hesitant, yet determined expression plastered on his face.

 _Whatever you want to say, say it._  Roy though as he leaned forward in his seat with his hands folded.

Havoc hesitated for a moment longer and he pursed his lip. "So... We haven't heard anything about the Chief in a while. Since you've been gone, we were wondering; is Ed-"

Without needed to spare a thought on it, Roy abruptly cut him off with a raised hand; the simple signal demanded silence, in which Havoc promptly obeyed, clamping his mouth shut. He might not have been so easily hushed if it wasn't for the warning glare that the colonel directed towards him.

_On second thought..._

It was understandable for the team to be worried about Ed, even after noticing Roy's optimism once he had found the boy. They had no way to know what had actually happened to him after that night several days ago, except for maybe Hawkeye. But even he was shocked when the idea of actually having Ed stay at his house came to mind. The chances of any of them expecting him to do that were slim to none. In the eyes of his men, Fullmetal was still missing and Roy was likely the only person who actually knew what became of him.

He could be apathetic towards their position, but he couldn't yet outright tell them the details; not when he still had a promise to uphold to Edward, and not when every day was still a struggle just to keep his ever-growing trust from slipping out of his grasp like sand. But he couldn't bring himself to outright lie to them either. Roy couldn't return their trust and loyalty by lying to their faces; they just didn't deserve that. Perhaps it was too much to ask, but it would be better if no one questioned it.

The colonel slowly lowered his hand back to the desk and looked up at his second lieutenant. His stare was hardened and unwavering, but sympathetic. "Don't ask, Havoc."

The blond was quiet for a moment as he battled against his own thoughts. Roy could see the others watching from behind. All of them- even Hawkeye, to some extent- had the same, desperate gleam in their eyes that just wanted to know what happened to Edward- their co-worker- their friend.

It would be so easy to tell them. It would be so, painfully easy to tell them where Edward was and what he was doing just to ease their worries. Doing so would most likely be harmless, and Ed would probably never find out, especially if Roy told them not to mention it, but it was more than that. Roy was still unable to forget the pure, raging distrust that burned in Ed's eyes when they met at the waterlogged park. When the teenager was convinced that Roy had betrayed his trust and tried to catch him at the inn, it had honestly shaken him. He had been the target of all sorts of nasty looks in his time -from death glares to actual assassination attempts- and was never badly fazed, but seeing his own subordinate look at him like that was something that he never wanted to experience or even think about again.

It may have been pointless and even a little counterproductive, but that encounter had only strengthened his resolve to keep that promise. Not just to prove to Ed that he could, but to prove to himself that he was truly worthy of the trust that he was trying to reignite.

Havoc's fists tightened at his sides and his eyes narrowed to a close. For a moment, Roy believed that he was going to relent and stand down, until the man opened his eyes again and stepped closer to the grand desk.

"Boss, please- we just need to know that he's okay!"

Roy kept his trained, steady stare on the man as he was marginally confused by the demand. The other men shared the same pleading air that radiated from the blond. They were all clearly thinking the same thing, but that should have been expected, since they were given two days without the colonel to talk about it. They probably worked each other up without Roy there to reassure them of Ed's safety.

He supposed he couldn't blame them for being as concerned as they were. They had been left completely in the dark. When they had helped him to corner Ed in the alleyways, he told them pathetically little about what they were doing and why, and they accepted it. How long had he expected them to continue on ignorantly anyway? Roy hadn't really thought about it, as he was so distracted with dealing with Edward.

Roy sighed deeply. "I can't te-" he cut himself off, staring blankly at nothing. The words he was about to say rung familiarly through his mind.

_I can't tell you._

That was exactly what Ed had told him when he tried to pry into what happened when Tresler died. And now he was going to say the very same thing to his men when they asked about what happened to Ed. He felt to useless and powerless at the time- unable to help, no matter what he did. He didn't want to do that to his team. Somehow, that simple comparison was enough to threaten his stubbornness on the topic.

Roy blinked his eyes back into focus after having his little epiphany and looked back up at his staff, who in which were watching him with varying levels of curiosity.

"He's alive, if that's what you're asking." It obviously wasn't all they wanted to hear. The expectant stares continued with baited breath. "He's fine- psychically," he added with a small grimace as images of Edward's frantic, paranoid, sleep deprived state flashed in his mind. Even if he  _was_  beginning to get more sleep now, it wasn't enough to suddenly heal him and solve all of his problems. Fullmetal wouldn't truly be  _fine_  until his blame was cleared and Alphonse was safe and sound. "He's as safe as he possibly could be right now."

Roy made to silently make it clear that he wasn't going to share much. Havoc remained still for several seconds, mulling the information over in his mind. After a moment, the tension slipped away from his shoulders and he stepped away from Roy's desk with a faint smile on his face. Not only did they all know that Ed was fine, but they knew that the colonel was watching over him often enough to know for certain. They would just have to continue to trust that he would take care of it.

"Thanks," he breathed and made for his own desk once again. One look at him was enough to know that he and the others for that matter were not entirely satisfied with the answer, but they knew it was all the superior officer could give at the moment.

For about the hundredth time since all of this began, Roy found himself wishing that it was already over. He was eager to get all of these tedious secrets behind him, and return things to how they should be.

But if he wanted something, then Roy was well aware that he would have to work for it. And work for it, he will.

* * *

Ed opened the refrigerator for about the fifth time in the past hour. It was stocked with a wide verity of food items, but somehow, there was nothing to eat. He always assumed that a workaholic bachelor like Mustang would have a more basic, user-friendly selection.

With an irritated groan, the alchemist closed the fridge and leaned back against the island counter. Perhaps if he glared at it long enough, something appetizing would fabricate itself inside.

It was nearing lunch time and once again, he had done absolutely nothing so far- nothing worthwhile, anyway. Sunday just consisted of him trying to not to hyperventilate every time he got too close to a window as images of Riece standing underneath the street light blinked through his mind.  _Watching him._

And so far, Monday consisted of roughly the same thing, but he was able to redirect his thoughts from time to time. Thankfully, hunger was a good distraction, but solving that problem was proving to be difficult.

A shrill chime interrupted Ed's thoughts as the alarm punched the air out of his lungs. It took several seconds him his frantic mind to understand that it was the phone. Which meant that Mustang was calling. Which also meant that Mustang found something on Riece.

Edward spun around the island counter and skid to a halt by a phone, but stopped himself short with his hand frozen on the unanswered handset, all thoughts regarding his empty stomach forgotten.

What if it wasn't Mustang? Anyone could be on the other end of the ringing line- one of Mustang's neighbors, friends, a sales call, someone from work, someone just trying to learn if the house was empty- anyone.

But if it was the colonel, then he didn't want to pass it up.

Very hesitantly, Edward pulled the phone to his ear and bit into his lip, remaining quiet. There was a brief silence, before:  _"Ed?"_

He released his breath in relief. He definitely recognized that voice.

"Colonel?"

 _"How are you holding up?"_ The deep, confident voice asked casually.

"Fine. Is- uh, is this a safe line?" Half of the reason behind his hesitation was because he didn't want anyone to record his conversation with the colonel and find out where he was.

_"Yes. I went out to a public phone booth."_

He was probably using his lunch break for this. Well, better not drag it out. "Did you find anything?"

Mustang chuckled.  _"Impatient as always, I see."_ Ed held his tongue to keep himself from snapping at the man to cut to the chase.  _" It's not much, but I'm beginning to suspect that Riece could actually be the guys' last name."_

"Last name?" Ed echoed incredulously. He figured that Riece was either a first name, or an alias altogether. He never even stopped to consider that it could be a surname. "What makes you think that?"

_"I still need to look further into it, but it's possible. Last time I checked the files, I only had time to search by first name and I didn't find anything. I looked at anyone with the last name Riece, and there are more possibilities here based off of the description you gave me. Of course, it could still be a fake name, but it's a start."_

Even Edward knew that a person's description of another could rarely be trusted. The fact that he was sleep deprived and probably delusional when he last saw the man certainly didn't help. Mustang most likely meant that he found some people in the military files that didn't have alibis.

_"I'm currently looking at four possible suspects, but I'll let you know more as it comes up. But that's not the only reason I called; I figured that there's something else I should tell you about while I had the chance."_

That didn't sound very good, considering Mustang's tone. "Uh... What is it?"

 _"Another colonel had been assigned to the Tresler Murder case."_ By the sound of it, he didn't care to keep the annoyed bite from his voice.  _"He seems to be the type to breath down my neck every time I do something, so it may slow me down."_

"How come that happened?"

A short muffle was heard through the line, which Ed assumed to be a weary sigh. " _The case is taking too long and the higher-ups are worried for the military's public image._ " He didn't have to explain further for the young alchemist to understand that Mustang was referring to him. State Alchemists have gone rogue and committed crimes before- some much worse than others- and it always managed to cause damage.  _"All the more reason to find Riece and clear your name as soon as possible."_

The line grew silent as the colonel was most likely waiting for a response that wasn't going to come. Edward's grip around the phone had tightened and he stared aimlessly as the counter, unsure what to say. Mustang had said it multiple times now, but Ed hadn't really put much thought into the idea of clearing his name- proving his innocents.

Because he wasn't innocent. His name was tainted beyond repair. He had purposely not considered how Mustang was going to find that out, or what would happen once he did, but he knew he would have to soon, seeing as the man was now avidly searching for the truth.

The longer Edward tried to hide the truth, the more difficult things became for the Colonel. After all Mustang had done for him, Ed shouldn't have the right to do that. And yet, he was doing it anyway. He knew he was going to continue ignoring the truth for his own sake despite how wrong it was.

_Selfish._

_"Ed?"_

He had just realized that Mustang had tried getting his attention for several seconds when he finally tuned back in.

"Yeah?"

There was a brief pause of hesitation.  _"Are you alright?"_

The blond idly wondered how many times Mustang had asked him that question so far. "I'm fine," he insisted through his teeth and scrambled his brain for a way to change the topic. "Just hungry. You don't have any food."

 _"Look harder,"_  the man sighed. Edward wasn't sure if he was just exasperated from the events at work, or if he noticed his attempt to diverge from the previous topic to something safer. He sounded unsatisfied either way.  _"You could always try to make something."_

Ed groaned and leaned limply against the counter, silently congratulating himself for successfully changing the topic. "I don't want to," he drawled.

_"Well, then I can't help you."_

The teenager sighed exaggeratedly as he turned to glare at the fridge once more. Just as he was considering saying farewell and ending the call, Mustang cleared his throat at the other end of the line.  _"Are you sure you're alright?"_

"Why do you keep asking me that?" he asked, failing to keep the slight bite out of his tone. There goes his attempts to get away from that train of thought. "I'm as fine as I'm going to get."

 _"... I know,_ " he breathed quietly.  _"Listen; I know that this whole thing is stressing you out, and that note certainly didn't help, but-"_  he trailed off for a moment, likely fighting to find the right words. Ed was almost certain that the colonel didn't plan on going into this when he first called the house line.

"Spit it out, Mustang."

_"Riece said that he would contact you about Al eventually, right? The note proves that he's still in the area, so he may try to reach out again soon. I was thinking- maybe you should just try to relax until then. You need to focus on your health, and this stress isn't doing you any favors."_

"Wha-" Ed began incredulously, shocked that he would even suggest that in the first place. The thought of just sitting back and purposefully doing nothing rubbed him the wrong way. However, he was cut off.

_"Worrying about it won't get you anywhere. Just let me take care of this for now, and we can deal with him when that bridge comes. Alright?"_

Edward glowered at nothing in particular. "Easier said than done," he muttered. "Besides what are the chances that he even plans to contact me anyway? Wouldn't he have done it already?" His frustration with the situation slipped through his tone with ease. He knew Mustang would know even less about Riece than he does, but he somehow still wanted to inquire for the man's thoughts on it- in a vain hope that he could somehow solve Ed's problems.

The colonel sighed again on the other end, but it sounded more contemplative than annoyed.  _"Didn't you say he wants something in exchange for Alphonse?"_

Ed hesitated as the conversation quickly moved towards dangerous waters. He should have stayed quiet. "Yeah, but... what he wanted doesn't matter anyway. I'm just waiting on him now," he muttered.

 _"Wait... He_ wanted _something? So he already has it,"_ Mustang reflected as Ed quietly cursed himself.

"Technically," he said through his teeth with a cringe. He silently begged the colonel not to pry any further.

" _I see,"_  he replied slowly. Nothing was said for several long seconds, in which Ed desperately hoped Mustang wasn't over thinking what he had just said.  _"In that case, perhaps he's just waiting for something; biding his time."_

"Maybe," the teenager breathed and exhaled soundlessly. He had an itching feeling that Mustang was thinking much more than what he let on.

 _"Well, regardless,"_  Mustang began in a tone that suggested the conversation was drawing to a close.  _"At least try to get some more rest."_

"Alright, alright." He relented primarily to get the colonel off his back so he could hang up sooner, get away from any more conversations relating to Riece, and continue searching for something to eat. However, he failed to thoroughly consider what he was agreeing to. He figured that it would be impossible to simply not worry about Riece and especially Al, so actually trying would do absolutely nothing.

 _"Good,"_ he breathed through the phone, sounding relatively relieved.  _"I have to get back to the office now."_

They quickly said their goodbyes, leaving Edward alone once more to shift through the contents of the cabinets and fridge once more, but with an all new set of thought on his already spinning mind.


	12. Chapter 12

The setting sun had broken through the darkness of the dwelling clouds, casting it's light across the bustling city. The horizon was a rainbow of reds, oranges, and yellows, creating a false sense of warmth. The sun slowly drifted further away with every passing minute, allowing the cold to sink in, even inside those who were protected from it.

Roy watched the view as he leaned back in his seat and lazily rested his hands on the steering wheel, waiting for the traffic light to turn green. He was brought to wonder when the last time he saw a true sunset was since the constant storms had begun. The less realistic, optimistic part of his mind hoped that the stunning sight was some kind of messege; prophesying that things were about to finally start going his way. A sign that things were going to get better from here on out. If only he believed in such things.

But after today specifically, he would have certainly welcomed it.

It was his second day back at the office since his long weekend, but it proved to be even less productive than the day before. He spent most of his time filling out paperwork in order to transfer partial command over to Colonel Henry Douglas, which took far longer than it should have. Roy had the sneaking suspicion that someone was making the process painfully slow just to spite him. When he wasn't doing that, he tried to research further into those in the military files who he suspected to be Riece, but that was difficult to do when people were breathing down his neck the entire time.

Despite the little interrogation from yesterday, Douglas still seemed to suspect him and his men of "harboring a criminal," as the blond so-subtly put it. Roy grimaced at the thought from earlier that day as he pressed his foot down on the accelerator and turned a corner. While the other colonel clearly wasn't wrong to suspect him, it still pissed him off.

He wasn't even that suspicious to begin with! Or at least, he had tried really hard not to be. Having as much pride in his acting and persuasion skills as he did, it should have worked. Douglas probably just wanted to point fingers at someone as soon as possible, and Roy happened to be the most convenient candidate, seeing as he had known the kid in question the longest. But he had spent years building up a cold, merciless reputation for himself, just like almost everyone else at Central Command. He shouldn't have to put up with this.

But regardless, he had many eyes on him, just waiting for him to slip up. Roy wouldn't let it happen; he was going to keep Fullmetal safe and hidden until they had enough evidence to support his innocence. He had to.

There was no other possibility. He wouldn't allow himself to be blinded by what appeared to be obvious, like the rest of the whole damn country. Roy was certain that there was more to this situation than meets the eye. And if anything allowed him to continue hoping that Edward was guiltless, then he would take it. He would do whatever it took to ensure that his subordinate didn't wrongfully end up behind bars.

It just might take a bit longer than expected, thanks to Colonel Douglas' probing. It came to the point that Roy actively tried to avoid him. His efforts paid off, thankfully, because he didn't see a glimpse of the man during the last few hours of the work day. That small amount of time wasn't quite enough to make any real progress, but he just hoped he could do the same tomorrow.

At least he could now go back home to relax for a few blissful hours; that is, assuming Edward hadn't gone stir crazy yet. He still wasn't very comfortable with the idea of leaving his subordinate alone in the house for hours on end each day, but he really didn't see any alternative.

For years now, Ed had always been on the move in some way, shape, or form- he was always doing  _something_. Roy could understand how suddenly having to keep still for several days in a row could have its effects; he would probably have to discuss the matter later that night.

The colonel turned the car onto his street and narrowed his eyes as he immediately noticed a few black vehicles parked further down the row, precariously close to his house.

As he drew closer, he determined that they were actually all parked directly in front of his house, all in which were empty. A subtle chill ran down his back as Roy pulled into the driveway and stepped out, eyeing the cars suspiciously. Something wasn't right here.

His suspicions were confirmed as he turned around to see that his front door was wide open and there was a flurry of movement inside. Alarms went off in his head and he immediately kicked himself into action. He ran up to his door, hesitating slightly at the sight of the bent door hinges and the lock that had been broken off the frame.

His door had been kicked in.

Roy looked up to see multiple figures clad in military blue and black shifting around his house. An almost suffocating mix of thoughts and emotions bashed into his head all at once, leaving him slightly dazed. Throughout them all, one specific concern shadowed the rest:

Edward.

"What the hell is going on here?!" He demanded, not bothering to hide the boiling anger from his voice.

The few soldiers that rummaged around his living room glanced at his outburst until one of them decided to face his rage and speak up. "We're searching for signs of the rogue Fullmetal Alchemist under Colonel Douglas' orders, sir."

Roy bit down on his tongue to keep himself from barking at the solider. They were simply following orders, so there was no point in giving them an earful. No, his complaints were reserved for a certain colonel instead.

"Where is that-" he stopped himself, remembering to reign in control. It would do him no good to lose his cool now. Not until he cleared this up, anyway. "Where is he?" He continued coldly.

The major pointed him towards the kitchen, which Roy then quickly stomped inside. Douglas was standing in the center of the room, speaking calmly to another soldier when his blazing eyes locked on him. The taller colonel spotted him stalking through the doorway before he could get a word out.

"Colonel Mustang," he began with an expression that was just as emotionless as usual. "I was expecting you to show u-"

"You!" He cut in sharply and mentally restrained himself from doing something impulsive. "What right do you have to break into my house?"

The blond pulled a crisp paper from under his arm and handed it to Roy as a silent answer, who almost ripped the page as he swiped it out from his hand. Scanning the text over, his eyes widened slightly as he read the words  _search warrant_ and eyed a signature at the bottom by General Hakuro.

"And what exactly is your probable cause?" Roy nearly hissed as his narrowed eyes shot back up to the man. Even as a military state, they couldn't just break into a person's house without some kind of explination. As far as he was aware, there was no solid evidence to suspect him of anything; not anything that could merit  _this_ , anyway. He knew he wasn't Hakuro's favorite person either, but this was nearing unlawful.

"There were reports stated that Edward Elric was sighted here by neighbors."

Roy glared daggers at the man as he dug though his mind for an explanation. But no matter how he turned it, it just didn't make sense. Ed made sure that every window was constantly closed shut, and he hadn't left the house since he arrived. Then again, he did open the front door in the middle of the night, but no one should have seen him during that storm. Unless the man who Ed had seen that night, supposedly Riece, reported him, but that didn't sit quite right with him. It didn't add up.

"You're lying." His voice was low and careful as he watched the blond man like a hawk for the slightest reaction. But what he saw almost tempted him to punch him in the face.

Douglas allowed the faintest of smiles to creep across his mouth, causing him to radiate victory and confidence. It was the expression of someone who held all the cards. "Who can say?" he replied indifferently. "But if you're as innocent as you claim, than this shouldn't be a problem," he added, quirking an eyebrow as to wordlessly challenge him.

Roy glowered at the man for a moment. He had to drive the conversation away from his questionable involvement. "I'm just wondering why you decided to come when I clearly wouldn't be here. Or why I didn't hear about this during work hours."

"I planned to inform you, but you became rather difficult to track down." His feigned ignorance was almost insufferable. The man knew that Roy was trying to avoid him, and simply used it as his advantage. He clearly did not want him here when they broke in. "We were hoping you would arrive before we did, but we didn't have the time to wait around."

"But did you really have to break my door down?" he growled.

"I assure you, you will be fully compensated. But if the Fullmetal Alchemist was here, we couldn't have wasted any time with slower means of entry. I'm sure you understand. Now if you'll excuse me-" Douglas then stepped around Roy and walked back into the other room, leaving a seething colonel in his wake.

As infuriated as he was, his concern for Edward still eclipsed all else. They have likely been here for a while; and since the young alchemist wasn't already found, he probably made a break for it, or hid. Roy just hoped that he did something clever enough to avoid detection for the remainder of their stay.

It seemed that he truly had no choice but to sit down and endure. Arguing would only draw suspicion towards himself, which was something that he could obviously not risk at this point. He wasn't entirely sure what caused Douglas to get so set on blaming him, but he wasn't about to let that man win.

The colonel was just waiting for Roy to break and complain, kick them all out or get a superior involved- but it wasn't going to happen. He would best them all no matter what.

However, he could regain some control over this; they could not justify looking in areas that their target would obviously not be. Assuming Edward hid somewhere with the help of alchemy, then perhaps Roy could keep them from over examining anything. He had to keep an eye out for transmutation marks too.

With his nerves alight with a foreboding trepidation, Roy went up the stairs and watched the soldiers scatter around his house with a irritated glare. Anyone would be annoyed at having their property invaded for any reason, and he would make sure that they knew it.

"-looks like someone else has been staying here." Roy glanced around the corner and into the guest room upon hearing a fraction of a conversation. Two of Douglas' men were looking at the guest bed, which Ed hadn't bothered to make since he arrived. The blankets and sheets were in disarray on top of the mattress. The colonel cursed at himself for not being prepared for this and stepped inside.

"Problem?" He asked with a controlled anger as the two noticed his approach.

The younger man hesitated while the other, a first lieutenant, spoke up, unfazed. "Colonel Mustang," he greeted stiffly. "Have you had any guests over recently?"

"Funny you should ask. I had one of my old drinking buddies spend the night last weekend; wouldn't have been safe for him to leave," he replied swiftly with Maes in his mind. Of course, he didn't want his friend to get wrapped up in his lie, so he continued before allowing them to pry for details. "I apologize that my house is such a mess; but clearly, I wasn't expecting more guests," he added cynically. Roy daringly stared down the lieutenant until he broke eye contact to write something down on a pad of paper.

The same thing repeated itself for the rest of the afternoon. He would catch some of the military personnel looking or discussing something that could potentially hint to a second person living in the household, which Roy would then have to defend. Thankfully, there wasn't much more for them to nitpick because Ed wasn't a particularly messy house guest. By the time they finally started to pack up, Roy made sure to meet them by the broken front door to see them out with his arms folded and an annoyed glare set in place.

Henry Douglas approached him as the others piled out and took a moment to examine his apparent vexation. "Someone will be by tomorrow to repair your door." The blond didn't sound very concerned or apologetic. Rather, he sounded as if he was just covering his bases.

Roy decided not to reply to the man's comment. Instead, he unfolded his arms and adopted a more neutral, yet hardened expression. "I hope you found what you were looking for," he said sharply.

Douglas considered him for a long moment, before wishing him a good night and continuing on his way. Roy returned the farewell before propping the damaged door against the frame.

They were both lying.

The alchemist peered through the blinds and watched the soldiers until they had climbed into their cars and drove away. Once they were finally gone, he released a deep, wary sigh and rubbed his eyes.

Now he just had to find Edward.

* * *

Ed was fixing himself up a pre-dinner sandwich a few hours before Mustang was expected to return. It was the second day since the man had returned to work, but he would be lying to himself if he said he had already gotten used to it. At least when he heard noises throughout the house during the weekend, he was able to tell himself that it was just the older alchemist. But now that he was alone, every creak of the house caused him to flinch or even dive for cover.

It was disgusting.

Had he really fallen so low and become so incompetent that he couldn't spend a few hours by himself? But that thought alone was enough to kick his defiant nature into motion; he was going to prove to himself and Mustang and everyone else who cared that he would be just  _fine_. No one who wanted to find him knew he was there, no one knew were to look for him, and no one was going to break down the door in search for him.

Despite how many times he would tell himself to same thing for reassurance, it was just beginning to finally sink it. He had been there for several days, and there hadn't been any incidents, besides seeing Riece in the middle of the night. As terribly unnerving as that was, he at least knew that Riece wasn't actively trying to hunt him down. That thought didn't quell his worries in the slightest, but it didn't make them worse either.

However, as fate would have it, his brief moment of solace lasted for all of ten minutes before the first bang echoed throughout the building. Ed had just finished eating and was cleaning the dishes he had used at the time, but froze to the spot and dropped the plate in his hand into the sink, allowing it to clatter against the metal. Thankfully, it didn't break, but he was too preoccupied to look for cracks.

He stood rooted to the floor as a cold silence wrapped itself around himself and the entire house. Without warning, the second bang came, followed by the sound of cracking wood. A mental picture of someone kicking the front door was enough to pull Edward from the spot and brought him to leer into the living room. His limbs were shaking against his will and his breath hitched in his chest as he noticed that the front door was quickly being overpowered. Just before the final strike came, Ed made a mad dash for the staircase and fled to the second floor.

Mid-way up, the realization that the intruders would see evidence of his presence struck him in the head with the force of a truck. Without thinking, he turned into the guest room and his eyes jumped from side to side, certain his heart would burst from the nervous tension. The bed was a mess and his suitcase was sitting against the wall, thankfully completely packed. He supposed being constantly paranoid that he'd have to flee at any moment came in handy. He couldn't do anything about the sheets, but Ed quickly grabbed his suitcase and turned out, leaving the door wide open behind him.

He heard the sounds of barking orders and a parade of footsteps entering the main room as he hastily ran into Mustang's room. Ed then closed the door behind him and jumped towards the window to confirm his thoughts. Just as he feared, several black cars were parked in front of the building and men dressed in blue and black were running up the driveway.

Edward didn't have the time to consider why as he scrambled his brain to decide what to do. He had two options: run or hide. Running away would increase the risk of them finding him, and could lead him straight into more potential problems. If he hid, he would be a sitting duck, but his chances seemed more likely.

He heard shouts coming from the bottom floor and had no doubt that the soldiers would be on their way up the stairs at any moment. He didn't have the time to go anywhere else, so Mustang's room would just have to do.

It took him a few precious seconds to make a decision. Once he did, Edward closed himself in the colonel's small walk-in closet. With only a crack through the door for light, he pressed himself into the far end corner and clapped his hands after dropping his case besides him. Just as he had done in the alleyway to get away from Havoc several days prior, Ed used alchemy to create a forth wall to hide himself from view in the already small space.

Lately, he hadn't been able to trust himself enough to do any alchemy in fear of messing up an equation. And while his mind still felt slower and more foggy than usual, he at least recovered enough confidence to preform a simple transmutation, especially since so much was currently on the line.

Just seconds later, the young alchemist heard the door open and several figures step inside the room, who then immediately began searching anywhere and everywhere. The closet door was pulled open just before Ed had lowered himself into the corner and clamped a hand over his mouth to keep his uncontrollably heavy breathing quiet.

Having trapped himself in pitch blackness, he had no idea how much time had passed overall or how long it took him to begin considering how and why this had happened. Only once he realized that he wasn't going to get immediately found and carried away did he allow his thoughts to drift, if only just to keep himself from hyperventilating.

When he first recognized that it was the military who had broken into the house, Edward's first thought was to blame Mustang. As they clamored throughout the building, he was terrified of recognizing any of the voices. If he noticed the colonel or any of his staff were there, than that would prove his suspicions, but it wouldn't cause him to feel as enraged as he would have expected. Instead, he was almost certain that he would just feel... well, he didn't know how else to put it, besides extremely disappointed and hurt. Perhaps there was a better fitting word to describe it, but if there was, Ed wasn't sure what it could be.

However, that dread slowly dissipated as he listened and failed to recognize any of the voices or names being called. Besides; in hindsight, it would not have made sense for this to be Mustang's doing. Not to mention the fact that it just didn't feel right, the man wouldn't break his own door down. It was stupid to consider that possibility in the first place.

But that begged the question: what happened to Roy Mustang?

Why did the military decide to break into his house when he wasn't home? Did they find out that he was helping Edward and decided to arrest him for it?

Edward always knew that he could very possibly end up behind bars, but he never considered the possibility of others getting locked up instead because of his actions.

His heart nearly jumped into his throat when he heard an angry yell from downstairs that sounded distinctively similar to Mustang's voice. He stared wide-eyed into the darkness of the small room and latched onto the voice as tightly as he could manage.

Ed listened carefully as he heard the deep mummers from the floor below, but was unable to pick out any specific words. Several minutes passed until the voice was heard once more, but from inside the nearest hallway. He was almost certain that it was truly Mustang who was chewing the other soldier's out.

He exhaled slowly through his fingers, allowing the strain to drain from his shoulders. Mustang was just as unaware of what was happening as Ed was. In comparison to being arrested for treason, that was preferable. It was still a bad sign that his house was getting searched in the first place, but it at least meant that they didn't have any solid proof of anything yet. He hoped not, anyway.

This did cause Edward to realize just how his presence was effecting the colonel, however. He didn't stop to consider the risks Mustang was taking by allowing him the stay in his house. When he was forced into accepting the offer, he didn't once think about anyone but himself and how he could personally be effected.

As he curled up in a small corner of the closet that smelled faintly of earth and smoke, Ed was struck by how selfish he was once again.

He knew that all he had to do now was wait for the colonel to clean up to mess and get the military personnel out of his house. The blond pulled his legs up to his body and rested his forehead on his knees as he wished he wasn't such of a burden all the time. There was absolutely nothing he could do but wait.

Ed was shaken out of his thoughts when one of the soldiers began poking around in the closet once more, by the sounds of it. If they noticed the transmutation marks, then he would surely be done for. It was unlikely that there was an alchemist within their group, but nothing could stop them from bashing the hastily created wall down and pulling him out.

The teenager held his breath and strained his ears when another voice appeared behind the wall. It sounded like Mustang had shown up and was reproving the solider for examining his closet. Edward toned most of it out after the colonel said something along the lines of "I know he's short, but he's not  _that_ small," before proceeding to usher the man out.

Ed wasn't sure if Mustang noticed the signs of a transmutation or was just being careful, but he appreciated it all the same. Or at least, he would, if he wasn't too busy keeping himself from yelling at the bastard through the wall for calling him short.

He had long since stopped paying any attention to the passage of time when the soldiers all started to leave. The mutters slowly decreased until they died out completely. Edward raised his head to listen when a silence spread throughout the house. Moments later, he heard footsteps racing up the stairs.

"Edward?" Mustang called out in another room, sounding uncharacteristically frantic and worried.

As a response, Ed clapped his hands together and returned the the forth wall within the closet back into the adjacent walls, then pulled himself to his feet. He stumbled out of the closet just in time for Mustang to step into the room. He looked up and studied the man.

At first glance, the superior officer looked tired and irritated, no doubt from coming home to see it filled with invaders. But underneath, there was a very visible sense of concern, which quickly gave way to relief. His shoulders sank and he sighed deeply at the sight of the younger alchemist.

"Thank god," he breathed and leaned against the door frame. "Where were you?"

"I transmuted the closet." All of this was Ed's fault, but the colonel still looked worried about his well being.

Mustang nodded fractionally and ran a weary hand through his hair. "How long were they here?"

Edward shrugged and dropped his gaze to the floor. "I dunno- a few hours, probably."

"Well, it didn't seem like they found anything" the colonel said before he walked away from the door frame and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Damn it, Douglas," he spat under his breath."

"Is that the colonel who took on the case?" He wasn't sure how else to respond to Mustang's frustration besides inquiring about it.

He nodded. "Colonel Henry Douglas- he seems convinced that I've been helping you even though there's absolutely no proof. I have no idea how he convinced Hakuro into signing off the search warrant."

"But he's right."

Mustang's only response was a sigh that sounded very similar to a drained  _yeah_  before he quieted into a contemplative state of thought. Edward watched him for a moment before falling into his own mind. After a few seconds, he opened his mouth hesitantly, then allowed the words to spill out without backing them with much thought.

"Are you... Uh, is your job as risk because of this?" His voice sounded strange to him as he spoke, but couldn't quite figure out why.

Mustang looked up at the blond and blinked at him silently for a moment, apparently surprised by the question judging by the way he quirked his eyebrows. "I will admit that there are some risks, but I'm not too concerned," he replied with a vague smile.

Edward watched him carefully. He wasn't sure if he could believe the man or not, or if he could even afford to. "Then maybe... maybe I should leave."

Mustang paused and the smile fell from his face as he returned the kid's unstable gaze. "What are you talking about?" he eventually asked, clearly giving him his full attention.

Ed swiftly broke eye contact in favor of staring holes into the wall. "I mean- I just-" He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "It's not right for you to put up with all of this just because I screwed up," he said with a wince. He did a whole lot more than simply screw up, and idly wondered how Mustang would decipher that.

Mustang studied him carefully, nearly causing Ed to squirm under the weight of his eyes. "Like or not, but you are my responsibility, Fullmetal." The use of his title made it obvious that he was back in superior officer mode. "Besides, do you honestly think that I'd be better off if I just let you to walk back out onto the streets?" The fire behind his words that almost sounded offended told Edward not to respond to the rhetorical question.

Edward shook his head subconsciously and dared to meet the colonel's gaze. "I get that you wanna help, but it just doesn't feel right."

"Enough," Mustang snapped. "Besides, I would still do all I can to solve the case. You leaving would only slow it down." Ed gave him a hard stare- he certainly wasn't holding anything back. "Regardless, we agreed that you would only leave if I betrayed your trust."

"So you're just going to trap me here?" Ed wasn't quite sure where the accusation came from. He never once felt trapped, and certainly didn't  _want_  to leave at this point. Perhaps he still wasn't thinking straight; instead of thanking the colonel like he should have, he was blaming him for his generous actions.

The blond's words must have struck a cord in the older man, because his visibly hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Making you feel trapped is the last thing I want," he sighed. "I may not let you leave for good without a fight, but you don't have to stay here all day long." The offer shocked everything but surprise away from the teenager's face. Before he could utter a response, Mustang continued firmly. "It seems like you've gotten enough sleep now to avoid walking into traffic, but if you're going to go outside, you need to be smart about it."

Edward's suggestion to take his burden off the colonel's shoulders by fending for himself once more seemed to have been tossed off the table completely. His desire to carry his own weight for once was still present, but his need to remain somewhere safe overpowered it. He should just shut up and be thankful.

Ed nodded and looked down blankly at the ground. He wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing by complying or not. Was it wrong of him to stay and continue to risk Mustang's career? His mind was spinning and his many thoughts tangled together. He couldn't decide anything in that state.

He might as well agree and give it some time for the moment. Since it was an option now, perhaps going for a walk would help the clear his mind. But then again, he didn't really feel like going anywhere just yet...

He looked up again after vaguely realizing that Mustang was still talking to him. The man watched him expectantly as if he had just asked a question. "Uh, yeah," he replied dumbly, at a loss for what he was replying to. But whatever it was, the colonel seemed as satisfied with his answer as he could hope.

With that said, Ed sensed that the conversation had more or less drawn to a close and it was his cue to leave. He grabbed his suitcase from the closet and stepped into the door frame. He looked across the hall to the guest room, then glanced over his shoulder to see Mustang wearily rubbing his eyes. He looked away again as his mind debated with itself and cleared his throat.

"Hey Mustang," he began quietly, his voice just barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"... Thanks." without waiting for a response, Edward slipped into his room and closed the door behind him. Despite knowing that he would have to face the man again soon during dinner, he needed some time to think.


	13. Chapter 13

Edward shuffled into the kitchen and allowed a moment for his eyes to scan the room. It was just as empty and spotless as how he last left it. Rain was persistently, yet softly drizzling down the windows but the streaks were visibly lost within the shadows of night. It was just after five in the afternoon, but the dark clouds accompanied by the shorter days of the approaching winter had already snuffed out all of the sun's light. But for once, Ed was fine with that; it would only make his objective easier.

He circled around the island counter and stepped into the small side room on the other end of the kitchen that he had not once entered since he had first arrived at the Mustang residents. After flicking the light switch and walking further inside, he was welcomed by the strong scent of laundry soap. He immediately spotted his brown rain coat hung up on a rack alongside other, much bigger coats and jackets. Edward took it down and spared a moment to appreciate that it was clean and devoid of the mud that had previously weighed it down.

The blond then slid the raincoat on and pulled the hood up above his head, allowing it to effectively obscure his loosely tied hair. He buttoned up the front as he slowly walked back into the kitchen, then glanced out the window once more. With a deep breath, he opened the backdoor and walked outside, allowing the biting cold air to greet him. It chilled his exposed face and convinced him to wrap his arms around himself after closing the door behind, trapping the warmth inside.

But if he was ever going to get that walk that he had promised himself, then now was the perfect time.

It was nearing the end of the day and the rain would ensure that not many people would still be walking the streets. It was only going to get colder with ever passing day, so he had to get out as soon as possible before the rain turned into snow. Also, knowing Mustang, he probably had at least another half hour before the man returned from work. He could have just waited until then to leave, but he would rather avoid questions. Besides, he already got confirmation that he didn't need permission to leave the house for a bit. Not like that would have stopped him anyway...

So this was Ed  _being smart about it_ , as Mustang put it the day before. He calculated everything to the finest detail all so he could get a bit of fresh air.

In spite of his motivation to do so, Edward wasn't very eager to go outside thanks to all of the prying eyes. Any and every person he passed had the potential to ruin everything for him just by recognizing his face. That knowledge would probably make it rather difficult to fully enjoy the trip, but he was determined to do it regardless. Ed wasn't being caged in Mustang's home, obediently waiting for Riece come along with the key known as Al's freedom- no, he was free to do whatever the hell he wanted.

Not only was Ed trying to make a point, but he was also relatively convinced that he would completely go insane if forced to remain in one place for much longer; he was nearly bored out of his mind every time Mustang went to work. While reading did help to keep him stable, it was difficult to drift into it for hours on end when this wrench had been put into his life.

He wanted nothing more than to search for Al and Riece again, but there continued to be nothing he could do about it. While he still could research the Philosopher's Stone in preparation for Al's safe return, staying focused proved to be quite taxing. Besides, the colonel's collection didn't have much regarding that particular topic.

In order to keep himself from breaking something from frustration, Edward decided that one of the best things he could do for himself at the moment was to get some air; walk around while no one else was out, and clear his mind. Alphonse would probably tell him that that would be the healthy thing to do. But since his brother wasn't there to say it, he had to step up and do it for himself.

Edward took a deep breath, letting the cold, moist air fill his lungs and started marching through the thin, claustrophobic alleyway. As he eyed his surroundings, it struck him that he hadn't seen any of it since Mustang had first chased him there. In fact, he hadn't really seen much of anything since then. That was almost a full week ago; it was amazing how quickly time went by. Ed certainly wouldn't have been able to foresee any of this happening a week ago. Even now, he found himself questioning it.

He inwardly realized that staying at Mustang's house still somehow managed to feel incredibly strange, yet almost- dare he say- comfortable at the same time. Of course, he would never actually let the bastard know that...

Edward grimaced as he accidentally reminded himself of how ungrateful he had been acting.

 _Whatever,_  the alchemist insisted as he turned a corner to see the main road ahead.  _Whatever; just forget about._  He didn't want to think about such thoughts anyway; they wouldn't do him any good.

Ed sighed and tentatively stepped out onto the sidewalk that bordered the main road after looking both ways down the street. There was a healthy amount of cars driving past, but the sidewalk was devoid of life, just as he was hoping. The blond stuffed his hands into his pockets after checking to make sure his hood was properly up, then chose a direction and started walking aimlessly.

As the cars drove by, the sound of tires slashing through the flooding streets filled his eardrums and the headlights sped past his vision in blurs, never meeting his downcast gaze. He was blankly looking past the clouds of mist that escaped his lips with each breath, watching the ground as he moved. He focused primary on each step through the thin layer of water that coated the ground as he subconsciously listened to the raindrops falling against the nylon of his coat.

After quickly checking over his shoulder for about the fourth time, Ed began to wonder why he felt like he needed to do this in the first place. He knew in advance that his newly found paranoia would kick into overdrive as soon as he stepped out of the house, but he went anyway. Perhaps Edward just wanted to take advantage of the opportunity. Maybe he just wanted to feel like he truly had the freedom to walk around town, as if the entire nation wasn't currently searching for him.

It occurred to him that Ed could simply not return to Mustang's house if he chose to. He was mildly surprised that the colonel didn't seem very worried about him doing that after their last conversation regarding the topic. Ed had blatantly told him that he thought it would be best to leave the man alone and fend for himself once more, so why did he seem so sure that he truly wouldn't do it? What did Mustang think was keeping him there?

Maybe he was already aware that Edward wasn't capable of living alone on the streets anymore. After all, Ed  _did_  already rant to him about how he didn't want to be alone... The thought of that little breakdown formed a scowl on his face; he couldn't help but feel ashamed of his pathetic display. He was falling further and further apart, but Mustang didn't seem to mind. The older man didn't act like he was being burdened by the younger alchemist's unstable state at all, but truly accepting that was proving to be quite difficult.

Edward sighed and glanced behind him once more as he turned a corner. He still hasn't seen anyone on the streets besides a few occasional people who would immediately go from their cars to buildings or vise versa to get away from the rain as quickly as possible. He ignored the nagging, fearful feeling that poked at the back of his mind, certain that it was nothing, and moved on.

He impulsively decided that he would head to the large park where Mustang had found him several nights ago. It would probably be dreary and dark and cold, but at least there, he could get away from the noise of traffic and breath some slightly cleaner air. Maybe he would feel somehow refreshed upon being surrounded by so many trees. That didn't happen last time, but Ed didn't mind hoping ignorantly for once. The alchemist quickly discerned his location in accordance to the park, then changed direction.

Up ahead, several people were talking animatedly underneath an awning, shielded by the rain. It appeared that they were all standing outside of a bustling restaurant. Ed glanced to the sides, but there was no alternative path. He considered just stopping and turning around to find another way around, but he didn't want to do anything that would draw the slightest bit of attention towards himself. He decided to walk straight through the small group in hopes of "hiding in plain sight." With his hood covering his face and his... stature, it was always fairly easy to slip through large crowds.

With his head down and arms close to his sides, Edward approached the restaurant and sought out a clear path through the people as he peered from under his hood. Once he decided how exactly he would maneuver through the group, the teenager quickened his pace. His shoulders instinctively grew stiff as he swiftly entered the crowd and stepped around the oblivious people, falling far under their radars.

"- Edward-" his ears caught his own name amongst the chatter and his breath hitched in his throat. However, he did not stop. Rather, his pace slowed as he tried to figure out if someone was actually talking to him, or if he was just hearing things. He refused to just turn around, but he did pivot his head slightly and glanced past the hood to see if he was being watched.

But just as he looked away, a figure moved in front of him, causing him to stop completely. His heart started to pound in his chest as a list of wild fears and theories flashed through his mind. Ed tried and failed to reason with himself; his inner voice was drowned out by the nervous static that now filled his brain.

Mind in turmoil, the blond tried to step around the figure, assuming that the particular person simply wasn't paying attention. However, he was forced to look past the lip of his hood when the large body sidestepped into his path once more.

"Hello Edward," they seemed to repeat. Ed's eyes trailed up the long tan coat and up to the face of whoever was speaking to him as his mind was already screaming at him to run. He was met with a kind, welcoming smile, but it's warmth failed to meet him. Instead, he instantaneously felt a cold pit form in the base of his gut and a shiver ran painfully down his spine.

The face was nearly hidden from view by the rimmed hat due to the lights from above, but Edward could never forget that smile. It was the same deceiving smile that no sane person should ever dare trust. The smile that haunted his nightmares and flashed in his mind every time he so much as closed his eyes for too long.

Edward was stunned silent as a chilling, terrifying recognition sunk in. The man whom he stared at with wide eyes and grating teeth was more than happy to speak first.

"It's been far too long, Edward." Riece spoke as if he was talking to an old friend. "I think it's about time you and I catch up; wouldn't you say?"

Ed could barely hear his suggestion through the sounds of the people that surrounded them underneath the awning. Their laughter and the rain clouded his spinning mind, leaving him struggling to make out each word the man before him had just said. Once he finally succeeded in stringing the sentence together, he still had no idea how to reply.

"You-" he hissed with more venom that he thought himself capable of. How  _dare_  that man appear before him with that damn smile after everything he had done?! Did he honestly think Edward  _wouldn't_  send him into a hospital after putting him and Al through hell? He wanted to say exactly that, but his mouth refused to form the words.

Riece seemed to pick up on the young alchemist's overwhelming anger, because he raised his hands up slightly, almost as if to surrender, and even had the gall to look somewhat sheepish. "It's understandable for you to be upset, but let's not do anything rash. I just came here to talk, Edward. You want to see your brother, don't you?"

For a moment, Ed thought that he would have to have to forcefully hold his own arm down just to keep himself from punching the man's lights out. But Riece was right; he wanted to see Al, and beating the man into unconsciousness would not achieve that, as loath as he was to admit it. Since the man had appeared in the first place, that must have meant that he was going to free Alphonse. That had to be it. What other explanation was there?

"Where is he?" Edward growled, unaware of his whitening knuckles.

"All in due time," Riece said easily. "But this isn't the best place to chat." He wordlessly motioned for Ed to follow as he stepped into the restaurant. Making sure to keep his head down, the blond reluctantly followed and cast a wary glance around his new surroundings. It was a fairly busy place with live music and livelier people filling ever corner. It looked like a rather expensive joint, but Ed somehow doubted that he would have to worry about, seeing as he didn't plan for this to go on for more than a few minutes.

Riece walked straight inside, paying no mind to the employees who were ushering customers around the grounds. Edward followed him to a small round table in the center of the open space. Every table nearby was already taken and the noise level had increased significantly. He clearly didn't want anyone to overhear their conversation.

The older man sat down and didn't bother to remove his hat, welcoming the dim lights overhead that cast a shadow over his features. Following his lead, Edward sat down as well, all while ensuring that his hood was still where it belonged. He was almost certain that his own face was just as hidden, if not more so.

"How did you find me anyway?" he asked carefully before they could get to the point.

Riece leaned forward and folded his hands on the surface of the table. "I've been watching you for some time now, as I'm sure you're aware. I was fairly certain that you would come out into the open eventually. And if not, I had prepared other ways of contacting you had the need arise."

Edward glared daggers at the man, silently cursing him to Hell and back. He thought he was just going crazy for thinking he was being watched all the time, and Mustang probably ended up thinking the same based on the way he obsessively shut windows and refused to touch the front door with a ten foot pole. But as it turned out, he was right all along.

"Alright, let's cut to the chase. Where is Al?" he asked slowly with a careful, dangerous tone.

His smile widened ever so slightly. "I'm truly sorry to say, Edward, but I can't tell you that."

 _Bullshit,_ his mind supplied sharply. He strongly doubted that Riece felt  _truly sorry_ for anything.

"As much as I would like to return him to you, I'm afraid that I actually have to extend our deal instead." Riece spoke with something that could be called a sad smile, but Ed could only see a condescending grin underneath the surface.

" _What?"_  the blond spat ferociously. "I already did your-" he paused, reminding himself to keep his voice down. "I already did your dirty work. You can't add more. Just let Alphonse go, or I swear, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Riece cut in and quirked an eyebrow questioningly. "You'll find him yourself? You'll search the entire city? You and I both know that that's impossible. He'll remain far out of your reach unless you do as I say."

"Yeah? And what if you're wrong?" He couldn't let that bastard know that he was nearly at a loss for words, besides mindless death threats.

Riece chuckled lightly. His laughter blended in so well into the loud surroundings, as if he was enjoying himself just as much as the unsuspecting people who surrounded them. Anyone watching from a distance would think that Ed had just told him a good joke. "That's the thing, Edward; I know that I'm not wrong."

"How can you be so sure?" the blond asked, half in a useless attempt to make the man doubt himself, and half out of pure curiosity.

"You barely survived a week on your own and accomplished nothing. Even with the help you're getting now, you're just narrowly keeping yourself sane; isn't that right?"

Edward remained silent, wondering frantically how he could have possibly known that.

"Besides," he continued without missing a beat. "Do you honestly think that I'm not prepared for any situation? If something were to happen to me, I assure you that your dear brother would never see the light of day again. So I'm sure you're very well aware that complying with my demands is the  _only_ way to get Alphonse back in one piece."

Edward glared at him, struggling to keep himself from exploding and attracting attention. He spoke slowly, somehow managing to sound far more controlled than he actually felt. "And what the hell does  _that_  mean?" he asked, tone dripping with poison. Had the situation been even marginally different, he would have knocked the man off his chair already for even thinking about threatening Al's life. But he couldn't act impulsively- he had to be the responsible older brother. Al was depending on him.

"You know what it means," Riece replied easily. Not once did that smile leave his face. "Your brother will pay the price if you don't cooperate. In fact, he already is."

Ed became incredible stiff, not trusting himself to react. Even his mind was frozen as the words sunk in. What did he mean by that? What did he do to Al? But he wouldn't give him an answer even if Ed's mouth wasn't suddenly too dry to ask.

"So are you ready to listen to the extension of our deal?"

He didn't reply, but Riece took it as an invitation to continue.

"As I have already said, Victor Tresler needed to die. But there was always more to it than that. There was always another who requires the same fate. I apologize for not mentioning it earlier, but I left this part out in order to get the best results." Edward reluctantly listened, growing increasingly tense with every passing second. He did not like where this was going in the slightest. "But it seems like you are already acquainted with your next target; perhaps that will make it easier."

Edward stared at the man as his apprehension quickly began to interfere with his breathing, both wishing for him to simultaneously shut up and spit it out. He continued quietly, ensuring that his voice was soft enough for only the teenager to hear.

"I need you need to kill Colonel Roy Mustang."

He was fairly certain that his heart stopped beating for a few painstakingly long seconds. The blood in his veins froze and a migraine suddenly fabricated itself in his head, causing him to feel dizzy and nauseous.

He was going to be sick. He was absolutely going to be sick.

He couldn't have heard that right.

Ed hoped that he didn't, but the satisfied gleam in Riece' eyes told him otherwise. He instantly knew that the older man had been waiting for a long time to say those words to Ed and see his reaction. He was probably savoring the moment, while Ed was just trying to keep himself from panicking.

Edward blinked at him, feeling nothing but a cold numbness.

Seeing as the kid was lost for a response, Riece decided to continue. "I see how you could be reluctant, but you really shouldn't be. Just like Tresler, Mustang is not a good man. He deserves nothing less. Even now, he's planning to uncover what you've done and use it against you."

"Shut up!" Edward hissed and slammed his hand down on the table. The previous numb feeling was immediately replaced by a burning fury. Not only did Riece kidnap Al to blackmail him, but now he was making up lies about Mustang. Part of him cynically marveled at how it was possible for someone to be so despicable, but he was mostly too preoccupied with being furious to dwell on it.

Riece, unfazed by his anger, wordlessly brought a finger up to his mouth. Ed looked around and noticed that he had grabbed the attention of the surrounding tables and slowly forced his fist to relax on the table with his head remaining down. He had never before felt so trapped. There were so many different forces holding him back from doing what he wanted to do- what he  _needed_  to do.

He leered at Riece once more. "You're insane if you think I'd actually do that. What the hell do you have against him anyway?" He growled through clenched teeth as he struggled to keep himself from yelling.

"I believe that's between me and him," the man remarked casually.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" Edward spat, unaware of his own metal fingers denting the soft wood of the table. If Riece truly had some kind of vendetta again Mustang, then it was an amazing coincidence that Ed just so happened to be staying at his house at the same time. But there had to be more to it than that. He refused to believe that this wasn't planned. Maybe Riece only made the colonel a target  _because_ Ed was staying with him. In that case, he really was just trying to screw with him by hanging his brother's life over his head. He was forcing him to chose one life over another.

"This is no joke, Edward," he promised. For once, his composure faltered. "I have an agenda to keep, which involves you preforming your  _role_  as efficiently as possible." His emphasis on the word caused Ed to wonder if there was more significance behind it's meaning than he realized.

The smile had completely fallen from Riece' face and the falsely friendly demeanor was suddenly replaced by something cold and deadly. His now narrowed brown eyes looked even sharper thanks to the shadows cast on his face by the hat. "This isn't about what you want or what you think is right- it's not even about what I want. All that matters is doing what must be done. Do you understand?"

Edward gaped at the man for a moment, taken back by the sudden shift in personality. All at once, he managed to become a completely different person. It took the teenager several seconds to realize that he had been asked a question.

 _Did_  he understand? No, not really. Ed opened his mouth to tell Riece to go to hell. There was no way he was going to actually kill Roy Mustang. Just the suggestion alone would be laughable, if it wasn't actually so grim. However, that is exactly what kept him from saying anything at all. Images of Alphonse flashed through his mind, stilling his tongue. If he outright refused, what would Riece do? Would he take it out on Al? And what would that even mean? He wouldn't dare to harm the blood seal within his armor, right? But then again, Ed wouldn't put such a heinous act past him.

But on second thought, if Riece hypothetically did end up doing something like that, he would lose his only method of keeping Edward at bay. There wouldn't be anything else keeping him out of reach. It all depended on what Ed was willing to risk.

He would never risk Al's safety; that much was certain.

With that said, that didn't really leave him with many options. When it became clear that Edward had absolutely no idea how to respond, he settled for grinding his teeth together as Riece waited for a reply that would probably never come. There was simply no good way to handle this situation. Potentially causing the death of either Al or Mustang were not options. Ed would never deny that his brother always came first, but to sacrifice another person that he knew and respected was just unthinkable. That wasn't to say that Ed  _wouldn't,_ but...

 _And yet you already did it once with Tresler._  The fact that he didn't personally know the man shouldn't have meant anything, but it did.

Edward growled through his teeth and slammed his fist down on the table again. The loud bang caught the attention of many bystanders, but he didn't currently have the mind to care.

He  _hated_  this. He didn't know what to do. Different forces have wrapped themselves around him in all directions, pulling at him all at once. He was stuck, trapped, chained down, unable to make a decision, unable to do anything at all when it mattered most. Everything hung on his choices, but he was incapable of making any. He couldn't be expected to do this. This was an impossible situation, but he was thrown into it anyway, forced to do something that he could not.

The people surrounding them have noticed that something was happening; many were still speaking loudly, mindlessly ignoring Edward's questionable reactions, but others were now either blatantly watching, or pretending they weren't. Even the band seemed to waver for a moment. "You're running out of time," Riece said softly, just loudly enough for Edward to vaguely hear him.

Ed snapped his eyes open, not realizing that he had closed them. At first, he assumed that Riece wanted some sort of answer or confirmation and was beginning to get impatient, but he went on before the blond could muster up a response. His expression remained as that strange, unfamiliar irritation that didn't quite fit right on his face-  _or perhaps it fit too well._

"I'll give you some time to think about, but if I don't see you following through within a few days, there  _will_ be consequences." He spoke slowly, his suddenly merciless gaze piercing straight through Ed's already meager defenses. Riece leaned back in his chair as his hands fell from the surface of the table. A smile slowly slipped back onto his visage, but it wasn't the same kind, empathetic expression that he usually slapped into place. Instead, it was closer to the victorious smirk that he saw the first time they met- when Edward had first began to learn what he was getting himself into.

"It would be best not to test me, Fullmetal Alchemist." He increased his volume at the last second, purposefully allowing the bystanders to clearly hear him state Ed's infamous title. The teenager immediately understood what Riece was doing just as a stream of whispers began to surround him.

Eyes wide with a newly revived fear, Edward spun his head from side to side, accidentally catching the stares of several of the other guests as they watched. He saw in slow motion as realization grew into their expressions as they echoed the title that was now connected to cold blooded murder.

"You bastard," Edward cursed under his breath as his eyes locked back onto Riece. The man in question was still smiling, knowing he had already won as their battle drew to a close. He swiftly pulled the rim of his hat down, obscuring his eyes from view completely, no doubt in an attempt to avoid notice from the onlookers.

Well, Ed wasn't about to let him get out of his unscathed. The blond stood up from his chair far too quickly and opened his mouth to say something, but a movement beyond the man caught his attention. He noticed several of the employees were watching with various degrees of suspicion and one was already dialing a number into a telephone. The rest of the employees began making their way across the floor, all heading for him.

He had quickly become the center of attention within the restaurant. The alarmed voices of the people around him had filled his ears, blending together into a single, incomprehensible sound. They were all watching him, staring at him, boring into him, judging him. They knew- they knew his crimes, his sins, his mistakes-

The room began to spin. Edward staggered backwards, nearly tripping over his own chair. A single voice in his scrambling mind spoke clearly above everything else;  _get the hell out of there._

Without sparing Riece or anyone else another glance, Edward turned towards the way he came and ran. He pushed his way through the crowd, but most of them moved to avoid him. They gasped and some even screamed as he charged by, allowing their own fear to get the best of them.

Ed managed to escape the building and immediately tore town the sidewalk. He ran blindly through the rain, unsure where he was going, but far too panicked to care. He just had to get away.

Rainwater splashing into the air with every step and the drops blurred his vision as they slapped against his face. The wind had picked up, forcing him to keep a hand on his hood to stop it from falling back. Edward lost track of time as he ran down the streets, taking random turns just to throw off whoever may have decided to follow.

His legs were shaking and his single foot and automail ports ached by the time he finally decided to stop. He had ducked besides a dumpster, pressing his body against the rough brick wall and he breathed deeply. Ed threw a hand over his mouth, quieting himself when he thought he heard footsteps. After several moments of silence, disturbed only by the steady flow of rainfall hammering against the metal dumpster, he decided that he was truly alone.

Ed pulled his legs up to himself and bowed his head, resting his forehead on his knees. He closed his eyes to focus primary on relieving the strain in his lungs, allowing the water to freely drip down his coat.

The young alchemist had long since recovered his breath by the time he allowed himself to think back to what had just happened, despite his reluctance. He didn't want to think about it, but in a way, this was exactly what he had been waiting for. Edward had spent weeks just waiting for Riece to contact him about Al. But now that he had, it did not go as he would have hoped in the slightest.

_I want you to kill Colonel Roy Mustang._

He shivered at the thought and wrapped his arms around himself. He wouldn't do it. He absolutely would not do it. Hell, he couldn't even if he tried. Unless maybe if he tried to sneak up on h-

_No!_

He shook his head, banishing all such thoughts to the deepest corner of his mind. As exasperating as the man could be, the thought of attacking with the intend of fatally wounding him was repulsive. It was out of the question.

But what about Alphonse?

Edward refused to sit back and do nothing, silently daring Riece to follow through on his threats. He couldn't. He  _had_ to do something about it. But what? It looked like he was at a crossroads, but there had to be a third option somewhere. Ed had to do something that Riece wouldn't expect.

The teenager briefly considered telling Mustang about his most recent encounter, but that wouldn't work.

If the colonel knew that Riece wanted Ed to commit murder, then he would instantly know what happened with Tresler. He would basically be presenting the older alchemist with all of the discriminating evidence on a silver platter. Mustang would have no choice but to do his job and deal with Edward like the pathetic criminal he was.

At this point, he had no right to keep the truth from him any longer, but to actually tell him would separate him from his brother. Ed had considered if it would be best to just turn himself in and trust someone else to search for Alphonse, but that idea was pushed aside almost as quickly as it came. It was his responsibility to find Al, and no one else's. Plus, his brother would surely yell at him if he found out where Ed's train of thought was taking him.

Edward smiled sadly at the thought of Al yelling at him, as he always did when his older brother decided to do something stupid. If he listened to him when all of this began, he wondered what would have changed. But of course, it was far too late to start speculating the past.

 _First things first,_  he mentally began as he started to notice the water that had gotten past his coat and soaked into his clothes, to his disdain. Ed propped his chin on his knee so he was now looking straight forward under the rim of his hood, ignoring the drops of water that tried to interrupt his vision. He refused to move from that spot besides the dumpster until he made some sort of progress, whatever it may be.

He mulled over multiple possibilities, but if he was unable to find Riece by himself, (unless he got incredibly lucky) and if he couldn't tell Mustang about the new development, then it seemed like the only thing he  _could_  do was continue on as if nothing had happened, and do whatever he could to help with the colonel's search. Because he just saw Riece for the first time since he was badly sleep deprived and paranoid, then perhaps he could fill in some holes on his appearance for Mustang. Then he could better connect that to the military reports.

It was as good of a plan as any, he supposed.

Speaking of Mustang... Ed had completely lost track of time. The older alchemist had probably returned from work a long time ago and was undoubtedly wondering where the kid had gone. Since there was no point in contemplating not going back at all, Edward slowly pulled himself to his feet. If he didn't want the colonel to start looking for him, then he best head back as soon as possible.

It didn't take long for him to figure out where he was, and then decide on a path to take all while enduring the cold rain and wind. It seemed like some subtle part of his mind knew where he was going all along, because he ended up being surprisingly close to the house. He was inwardly disappointed by that fact, since he would have welcomed more time to think about what he was doing but failed to find any excuse to stray from his destination.

Edward's eyes locked onto the front door as he slowly made his way up the driveway, now completely unaffected by the rain. Just as he expected, Mustang's car was parked out in front and it appeared that every light in the townhouse was turned on, probably due to the man's attempt to find the teenager before realizing that he simply wasn't there.

He would surely be asked questions. Ed didn't quite feel prepared to answer any, but he was slightly reassured by the thought that his skills at avoiding certain discussions seemed to have increased somewhat. Besides, he didn't plan on lingering long enough to start up a conversation.

As he approached the door, he stopped and gazed blankly at his feet. It then occurred to him that his plan to help Mustang with the search for Al's kidnapper would be easier said than done, judging by the way he suddenly felt incredibly nervous just by the idea of facing the man now that Riece was after him too. How was Ed supposed to look him in the eye and keep himself from warning him?

Edward shook his head, deciding that he would at least wait to get inside before bombarding himself with questions.

He took one last breath, eyed the faint cloud of mist that escaped his mouth, then tested the doorknob. He was mildly surprised that it was unlocked, but he supposed it made sense, if the colonel expected him to return tonight.

Edward closed the door behind him and welcomed the warmth that quickly surrounded him. A puddle of rainwater formed around his feet, reminding him to remove the soaked coat. As he hooked it onto the coat rack, steps echoed through the quiet house as Mustang appeared at the bottom of the staircase. He had changed out of his military uniform and into something more comfortable. Ed tried to see if his expression betrayed anything, but as usual, it did not.

"Hey," Edward began as casually as he could manage, failing to meet the colonel's gaze. Riece wanted him to kill that man. Al's life hung in the balance. Just looking at his sharp, calculating expression reminded him of his earlier conversation, forcing him to refrain a pained grimace.

"Hey," Mustang returned as he walked across the living room to close the gap. "I assume you went out for a walk. How did it-" he trailed off as he got close enough to see that something was clearly wrong. Ed managed to look up at him for a moment, just long enough to catch the worry and concern that now laced his expression. "Did something happen? You look pale."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Nothing happened," he muttered, grimacing at his own poor attempt to appear in a better state than he was. Mustang clearly didn't look convinced and opened his mouth to respond. "I'm serious," Ed insisted before he got the chance. "I'm just- just tired and I..." His mind twisted to find something else to say, but came out lacking.

The teenager curled his fists as he felt a slight surge in annoyance, all targeted towards himself. "I'm going to sleep," he announced and stormed past the colonel, avoiding his gaze and leaving a trail of water behind him. He knew Mustang wouldn't be too happy about him tracking water throughout his house, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care at the moment.

"Wait-" Mustang started but Edward was already up the staircase. By the time he shut the guest room door and sunk to the floor with his back pressed against the wood, he heard the heavier set of steps follow him up. He crossed his arms, just waiting for the colonel to speak up and order him to talk, but it never came. He heard a soft shuffle of fabric, indicating that Mustang had stopped just on the other side of the door. After a long, hesitant moment, he softly stepped away from the room, leaving Ed by himself.

Once he was certain that the older man was gone, the blond climbed onto the large bed and sat at the end of it and crossed his arms. It was nearing the time when Mustang would usually start preparing dinner, but he was certain that the colonel would be eating alone tonight. Ed had lost his appetite.

This was all Riece's fault. Why did he have to make everything so damn difficult for Ed? If it wasn't for him, than he would at least be able to talk to Mustang without feeling sick. Just as he was beginning to feel comfortable here, that psycho had to jump in and ruin everything.

Edward dropped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, knowing that he would be thinking about this all night. It looked like he would be getting yet another sleepless night.


	14. Chapter 14

Just as Ed had predicted, Roy ended up eating alone that night. He eventually tried to persuade the kid to come down, but his attempts were rewarded with silence. He was probably meant to think that Edward was asleep by then, but he knew better than to believe that. When Roy stood quietly outside of the guest room the next morning, contemplating his options, he was willing to bet that a pair of ears were listening intently on the other side. If Ed had been as traumatized as he looked the night before, then hoping he had gotten any sleep would had been a lost cause.

Ultimately, he decided to leave without a word. Ed would likely fall under the assumption that he had successfully fooled the colonel, but that illusion would not last long if he had anything to say about it.

Edward Elric somehow managed to sneak his way into the front of Roy's brain and remain there for the entirety of the day. During the slow drive to work, the recent image of a soaking wet, cold and troubled teenager walking through his front door the night before stained itself into his mind. He couldn't forget that hollow dread that eclipsed his face as he futilely tried to hide it. Just one look at the kid caused something leaden and dark to settle in his gut. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

But would the kid actually tell him about it?

No, of course not.

He was only capable of feeling sorry and emphatic for someone for so long, before it was replaced by annoyance. If Ed was going to act like a child, then Roy was going to treat him like a child, damn it. What was he thinking, anyway? Why couldn't he get it through his thick skull that Roy could actually  _help_  if only he'd let him?

Something must have happened when Fullmetal had left the house while he was still at work. With nothing to go off of, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to think. It would have been a welcomed miracle if the kid could just tell him outright, because otherwise, he was left to fill in the blanks for himself.

In those terrified eyes, he saw something that he had begrudgingly noticed several times since this fiasco began: guilt. Whatever happened had something to do with Tresler's murder, or perhaps Al's kidnapping. It wasn't much more than a gut feeling, but Roy was certain that everything was connected.

That begged the question: what caused Edward's guilt? What did he do? Or at least, knowing him, what did he  _think_ he did?

Edward was acting very strange, and the colonel could no longer afford to ignore the facts. The way he acted, the things he said, the things he didn't say; they all pointed towards one, unacceptable possibility. Maybe, just maybe, he had more to do with Victor Tresler's death than Roy dared to consider.

Fullmetal never once said that he  _didn't_  kill the man, Roy reflected reluctantly.

Every fiber in his being told him that it wasn't a possibility, but what else could spur such an intense sense of guilt and regret in the blond? Edward did have a way of taking on unnecessary blame, but that alone couldn't cause such a strong reaction.

Roy wasn't incapable of looking at the facts and understanding what the most likely scenario was, even if a subordinate was involved. Especially if he were to emotionally disconnect himself from the situation, as he was usually quite good at. However, he couldn't look at that kid and think that there was innocent blood on his hands. Whether it was because he didn't think it was possible, or because he didn't want it to be possible, Roy wasn't quite sure- perhaps it was both. But to admit and accept that was just unthinkable.

When he asked himself  _why_ , Roy didn't quite have an answer.

He had even told Edward that he would have to get his hands dirty while working for the military- he insisted that there was no avoiding it. At the time, he thought Ed's stubborn refusal to kill was ignorant and foolish, and made sure to let the kid know that. But now that it might have already happened, he suddenly wanted to do whatever he could just to prevent it from being true.

It shouldn't have made any sense. Edward Elric was supposed to be just another solider. Except Roy always knew that that was never the case, despite whatever he told people. The young alchemist had always been a unique case. He would usually tell himself it was because of his age; he made it clear that he wouldn't go easy on Ed for being a kid in the military, because no one else would either. However, he would occasionally cut him some slack here and there. But now that there was more on the line, there was clearly more to it.

When Roy first met the Elrics, they were broken and defeated; they had lost so much. Far away from their unrelated family in Resembool, they had pathetically little in East City. Even as Roy and his men transferred to Central, they were all the brothers had in their unforgiving new lives.

He had an obligation to protect his subordinates while understanding that they were not helpless. Edward was no exception to that, but in a way, he was. He was annoying and insufferable and a royal pain in his neck, but knowing that there was no one else to keep the kid in line, it fell on Roy to watch over him. In spite of what he may have once thought, he would have preferred it no other way.

These thoughts followed him throughout the entire day, spinning in circles and warring with each other. The constant headache that they created must have given him a  _Do Not Disturb_  air around him, because even his usually rowdy office was relatively quiet. Every desk was hidden under stacks of folders and documents and the air was filled with the sound of pens gliding across paper.

If Roy wasn't already so distracted, then he would have commented on the rarity of actually seeing his entire office hard at work. However, he had no time to spare.

He reluctantly spent the majority of the day reading and signing useless papers. He was eager to get through them as quickly as possible so he could switch priorities to the only thing he actually cared about at the moment, which was digging back into the Tresler case. He had even planned to skip lunch, until Hawkeye came in with a sandwich from the downstairs canteen, much to his gratitude.

By the time Roy was able to leave the others to pay another visit to the record room, the sun had already begun it's descent. He was unable to finish his work completely, considering that it was physically impossible to go through the unnaturally large amount of papers that found their way to his desk in one day, but he did manage to to get a good portion of it out of the way. He only hoped that advancing in the case could improve his mood before his shift came to an end.

The record room was dark and thankfully deserted in the later hours of the day, lit only by a single desk lamp that someone forgot to turn off. It housed only the most basic files that had no need to be guarded, unlike the more confidential records. Lines of bookcases and filing cabinets filled the room, almost creating a maze. He located the correct shelf, and pulled the records of the most possible suspects, all in which had Riece for a first or last name and fanned them out on the table. Edward's report did help narrow down the selection, but he couldn't be sure that any of these people were the person they were searching for. Riece could have been an alias, and Roy could have just been running in circles, wasting his time.

He never kept them out of their proper locations for long, on the off chance that someone would notice them missing, but he was beginning to consider taking them home for a night and showing Ed. Doing so would certainly speed things along. He also considered visiting those people, and potentially bringing the kid along with him, but that was a conversation to be had later.

The door opened and effectively interrupted his thoughts, revealing the ever-stoic Riza Hawkeye.

"Sir," she began as she closed the door behind her before he could get a word out. He paused mid-step, knowing that whatever caused her to chase him down after so little time had to be important. "Colonel Douglas called the office just after you left. He is requesting a report of our activities during the past few days."

"Already?" Hawkeye didn't respond to his rhetorical question as he warily squeezed the bridge of his nose, fighting back yet another migraine. He knew Douglas would bring the report up eventually, but he figured he would have at least a full week until then. "Did he mention when he expects it?"

"He said he would send someone over in a half hour."

Roy scoffed humorlessly. "I haven't even written it yet." As officers of equal rank, he had no strict obligation to comply with the other colonel's wishes by his unofficial due dates anyway. He would have just rejected the idea of reporting their activities to each other entirely, but he didn't have any desire to cause Douglas to suspect him anymore than he already did.

The lieutenant opened her mouth to respond but before the words could come out, the door opened once more, causing her to promptly step out of the way. Roy squint his eyes as the bright lights of the hallway slipped into the dark room, silhouetting the intruder until his vision adjusted.

_Speak of the devil, and he shall appear._

Colonel Henry Douglas stepped into the room and paused with a hand still on the doorknob as his dark eyes fell on the two. He had a small collection of files under his arm. "Colonel Mustang, Lieutenant Hawkeye; what a surprise," he began, sounding entirely displeased by their presence.

"Indeed," Roy agreed carefully. He kept himself from eyeing his own files on the table, or moving them out of sight, preferring to avoid drawing attention to them.

In the entire building, they just so happened to meet in the same small room at the same time.  _Great. Just great._

Douglas quickly suppressed his surprise and moved on as if he had always expected them to be there. "I assume you got my message?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, the report hasn't been completely just yet."

"I see. In that case, I can wait a few more hours."

 _Hours?_  Roy just narrowly kept himself from laughing out loud or, more realistically, glaring at the man. Douglas acted as if he had forgotten that they were of equal rank, and it was rapidly wearing on his nerves.

The other colonel shifted through his stack of papers and folders, and pulled a specific file out. "I planned on sending someone to your office earlier, but I might as well give this to you now." Roy glanced at the manila folder that undoubtedly held a report of his own actions over the past week. When he never moved to walk around to center table to retrieve it from him, Douglas instead handed it to Hawkeye.

The alchemist inwardly grimaced as he imagined himself hastily piling information together for the rest of the night. Considering that Colonel Douglas already seemed to think so little of him  _and_  had the backing of some of the higher-ups, it would do him no good to harm his already damaged image by not reciprocating the gesture in a timely manner. Besides, he couldn't afford to appear distracted, uncommitted, or unwilling to cooperate.

He had to improve his image before more people started to turn their heads.

"Hawkeye, take the report to my office. I'm not quite done here," he said, giving the blonde a significant glance.

Without missing a beat, she replied with a curt "yes sir" and made to leave the room without another word. As soon as she stepped out, Douglas wordlessly crossed the floor until he reached a specific filing cabinet. Roy didn't bother to see what he was doing and instead picked up his own files and swiftly put them back to where they belonged. While the other colonel wouldn't be able to gather anything from them alone, there was no reason to give Douglas any reason to think that he knew more than he was letting on regarding Tresler's killer. That, and Roy doubted he would have the time to work on it now anyway.

He walked back to the center of the room, just besides the main table and looked back at Douglas as he closed the drawer of a cabinet. Roy knew that it would be best not to poke the bear, but his genuine curiosity won out.

"I have a question for you," the alchemist began, watching carefully at the taller man turned around to face him.

"... Very well," he answered carefully. His severe expression gave nothing away, except that he was now on his guard.

Roy mulled over the words in his mind for a brief moment before continuing. "You interrogated my staff, broke into my home, found nothing, and yet you still suspect me of something, don't you?" Douglas refrained from immediately defending himself, just as he had expected. "I want to know what prompted you to become so set on proving me guilty."

The other man kept his hard, unshakable stare on Roy as he spoke. He seemed to be unfazed by the question, almost as if he had been expecting it. "I'm going to be blunt with you, Mustang; when I was assigned to this case, I was advised to keep an eye on you specifically. As for why, you would have to take that up with the higher command. But from what I can tell, you are a very suspicious man."

Roy fumed on the inside but did a fantastic job keeping it under wraps, all things considered. He was amazed that the generals would be so openly distrustful towards one colonel to another. Unless, of course, Douglas was just summing up what he had deciphered from the social game they liked to play, much like common politicians.

Either way, it was incredibly annoying.

"I see," he replied slowly, successful keeping the bite out of his tone. "After all of these little tests, are you still not satisfied?"

The other colonel's emotionless expression faltered as he appeared to be seriously contemplating the question. "It's too soon to say. If you were to be hiding a rogue alchemist, then I will do my job and find out."

Roy could sense countless unstated comments underneath the surface of his words, as he subtly kept himself from reminding him that Ed was not a  _rogue alchemist._  Douglas didn't want to underestimate him, and he wouldn't dare risk letting himself be fooled after having been given a warning. At least Roy knew that if he just so happened to get caught by some other means, he would be lodging a wrench into the man's career by making him look bad. Sadly, that one pleasant thought did nothing to lighten his ruined mood.

"Now if you're done, I have work to do," Douglas announced and approached the door. To throw a cherry on top of, he glanced back at the Roy after cracking the door open to make his leave. "You best get started on that report."

He spoke with a condescending indifference that made Roy's blood boil long after he left as well. To think that that fool had the audacity to order him around like that... And yet he wasn't in any condition to fight back- not when he was in such a delicate position, anyway.

The Flame Alchemist marched down the now-empty halls of Central Command, swearing to himself for the hundredth time that he would, without a doubt, get himself and Edward through this situation unscathed somehow. And when he finally did, he would turn to Douglas and everyone else who tried to get in his way and laugh at their failure.

But for now, he was restrained to glaring daggers at anyone who dared cross his path as he mentally prepared himself for spending the rest of the evening by writing up a damn report.

* * *

The newly installed front door opened and shut within an instant, sending a subtle reverberation throughout the walls of the townhouse. The rain had ceased for the moment, making that the only sound to be heard in the past several hours.

Edward let his nervous, anticipating gaze fall to the guest door, knowing that the moment he had been dreading all day was almost upon him. He had been mentally preparing himself for Mustang's return since he first left for work that morning, but it didn't feel like nearly enough time. He was certain that the colonel was suspicious and the impending conversation was drawing near. There was no way to avoid it, he knew, but that didn't keep him from hoping.

Mustang would have had to been a fool not to realize that something was wrong as soon as Ed walked through the door last night. And despite what he liked to tell himself sometimes, Roy Mustang was no fool. He had probably spent a good portion of the day just planning out how he would confront the teenager about this matter. Which meant that the strategy he had decided on was undoubtedly very clever and well thought out. Edward would have to be careful...

"Hey Fullmetal," a deep, familiar voice rang out down the hall as the man climbed the stairs. He sounded tense and tired, but knowing Mustang, that wasn't particularly alarming. "Have you eaten yet? I got Xingese takeout," he said as his voice drew closer, then distanced itself again as he turned into his own room.

And so it begun.

Seconds turned into minutes without Mustang receiving an answer from the blond. Not because Ed particularly wanted to piss him off, but mostly because he didn't know what to say and wouldn't have had the voice to speak otherwise. He didn't have a bite to eat since yesterday because he didn't feel as if he could stomach anything, but he knew his body craved food.  _Was_ he hungry? Perhaps hunger was a relative term in this case.

"Ed?" he asked from behind the door. Edward sat up on the bed and stared at the wooden barrier that separated the two alchemists, biting at the inside of his cheek. Mustang had no idea that someone expected Ed to  _kill_  him. But he would find out, one way or another.

But the only two foreseeable options both overflowed with problems. Actually, trying to kill the man  _wasn't_ an option. But telling him about it didn't look too great either.

_Oh, by the way, Riece showed up and he wants me to kill you in return for Al's safety in a matter of days._

Yeah, not going to happen.

He heard what sounded like an irritated groan through the door. "At least let me know that you're in there."

Edward swallowed the apprehension that threatened to slip into his voice and forced out a reply. "I don't want to talk right now."

He didn't miss the short beat of silence that passed between them. "Are you hungry," Mustang asked again, though his tone sounded more like a demand rather than a question. It was clear that his patience was running thin, thanks to a long day at the office. Ed was in no mood to test him, but if only he would just get the hint and go away so he could figure out what to do...

"No," he muttered nervously.

"You haven't eaten anything today, have you?" the man accused through the door. He must have noticed the spotless state of the kitchen.

No response.

After a few tense seconds, something seemed to crack in Mustang's carefully crafted, usually unbearably controlled exterior. "Damn it, Fullmetal!" Edward flinched away from the harsh tone as if he expected the door to be kicked down. "Are we really doing this again? I'm not going to let you rot in your room," he growled. "Now get out here and eat something!"

Interesting that he referred to the guest room as _his_  room, Ed observed. However, he supposed it was less of a mouthful that way.

Edward stood up and fought the urge to slide into the furthest corner of the room, knowing that doing so would only serve to further hinder their already unstable conversation, if it could even be called that. The thought of food sounded positively unbearable at the moment. His stomach was currently in knots, sickened by Mustang's concern for him, and his ignorance of the dire predicament that he was unknowingly involved in. He was led to believe that Reice's reason for targeting Mustang in the first place was just to watch Ed squirm, giving him yet another layer of guilt to pile on his shoulders as he reminded himself that he was solely to blame.

"I told you, I'm not hungry," Edward shot back, but the energy from his voice was gone. He didn't have the heart to converse with the man as fiery as he once did. No matter what he tried to do to stop it, his mind persistently wondered if he could still argue with the colonel like this in a month or a week, or even a few days. For all he knew, his entire world could fall apart tomorrow or the next day. Judging by how things had been lately, he wouldn't have been awfully surprised. "Just leave me alone."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Ed could almost feel Mustang's frustration through the door as he tested the doorknob, which was already locked. "Open this door before I burn it down!"

_So much for a clever and well thought out strategy..._

Ed did not want to know what happened at work to put the man into such a foul mood. "Go ahead," he challenged without putting too much thought behind it. He wouldn't really do it, right? Most sane people wouldn't set their own house on fire because of a difficult teenager.

He instinctively took a step back when he heard intent footsteps moving away from the door. Either Mustang had enough of him and was done talking, or he was going to fetch his gloves. He deeply hoped it was the former, but that seemed more and more unlikely as the footsteps steadily drew closer one more.

He held his breath and stepped away until the back of his legs pressed against the end of the large bed. Realistically, if the colonel was really going to throw flames in his general direction, then any smart person would get as far away from the door as possible. However, his legs refused to move as he stared the door down while a festering sense of apprehension spread like wildfire. As uncertain as he was, the doubt refused to let him move, telling him that Mustang wouldn't follow through on his threat- he couldn't.

Seconds passed unbearably slowly as he waited for something- anything- to happen. But after a tense silence, a single knock hit the door, followed by more nothing. It wasn't until he heard a muffled sigh directly on the other side did he realize that Mustang must have just laid his forehead against the wooden surface. Ed didn't want to dare say that the anger had died out before any damage could be done, lest he be wrong, but it was appearing to be the case.

He took a tentative step closer to the door, ears straining to catch any sign of movement. At last, Mustang murmured something, but Ed refused to believe that he heard correctly.

"What?" He asked slowly, his voice careful and nervous.

"Sorry," the older alchemist breathed again. A sort of defeated air radiated through the door. "I-" he sighed. "- it's been a long day."

Edward didn't respond, partly because he didn't have the words, but also because he hoped that it would act as another sign that he didn't want to speak. Talking to the older alchemist made it impossible to get away from the thoughts that had relentlessly haunted him all night and day. As cowardly and pointless as it was, he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about the unforgivable act that he had been asked to do. Again. He couldn't even bring himself to care that the man almost burned a door down; he deserved to be angry.

Nothing was said for several minutes. There were times when Ed wondered if Mustang had left without him noticing, but pressing an ear to the wood or a quick glance through the crack below the door would prove otherwise.

"Listen, kid," Mustang eventually began quietly. "You can't keep doing this.  _I_  can't keep doing this." Edward remained speechless as he tried to decipher the older mans' words.

The first part likely meant that Ed couldn't continue to lock himself away from the rest of the world and ignore some very essential human needs, such as food and sleep, which was all admittedly true. But as for Mustang... After a moment it dawned of him that he was quickly pushing the man to his limit. Once again, he was burdening the only person who had tried to help him. At this rate, he would completely drive the man away. That would probably be for the best, but then again, it wouldn't solve his problems. It wouldn't help Al.

"Do you have any idea how- how- hard it is to just watch as someone is suffering right in front of you, unable to do anything-" he cut himself off, sounding as if he had more to say but thought better of it. It was rare to see Mustang truly open up about anything, and strange to hear such human words coming out of his mouth. Ed was mildly surprised to find himself actually wishing he had continued. He imagined that was how the colonel felt about his own refusal to speak, but to a greater extent.

Ed leaned back and sat on the edge of the bed and solemnly eyed his feet, willing himself to calm down. Judging by his tone, he wasn't sure if Mustang was really talking to him anymore, or was speaking into the air. But nonetheless, his words reminded him of Alphonse, specifically just after he sealed his soul to the suit of armor. To watch his brother lose so many things that they all took for granted- eating, sleeping, breathing, feeling- it was miserable. His brother put on a strong front for Ed's sake, but they couldn't keep anything from each other. Every single day was a struggle for Al as he tried to adjust to that empty new way of life. Ed wanted to help, but what could he do when he was restrained to a wheelchair? He didn't even have the strength to tell Al that everything would be okay; at the time, he thought he would have been lying. His inability to do anything only fed his lifeless depression.

It was a cruel, never-ending cycle- until Mustang appeared. Even back then, the Flame Alchemist was helping them. The difference between then and now, is that he had an objective for dragging Ed back onto his feet and relighting the fire in his eyes; he wanted to recruit the kid, add him to his collection of pawns, and use him to claim more power.

But now that Edward was on the verge of losing everything all over again, Mustang had nothing else to gain. And yet, he stayed. He didn't leave his crippled, malfunctioning subordinate in the dust even though it would have been much easier and less costly. Even the benefits of keeping him around did not make up for what was on the line. No heartless person would spend  _that_ much effort just to save a simple tool.

Considering that Mustang didn't make a habit of preforming random acts of kindness, there was no other explanation; he must have actually cared. At least part of him had already accepted that after being welcomed into the man's home, but it took all this time for the truth to finally sink in without the second voice in the back of his mind present to tell him that he was wrong. In fact, the voice that usually demanded that he distrust Mustang at every waking moment had been very quiet lately.

That realization was somehow... comforting. Not many people truly cared, especially to the point where they would let their entire lives get disrupted. And yet Ed still had the audacity to keep so many important truths from him.

The blond sighed and looked at the door once more as his hands curled into fists by his sides.

That bastard deserved nothing but the truth. Edward could no longer delude himself into believing that Mustang would immediately throw him into a cell after finding out what he had done, but he still couldn't bring himself to tell him. Not because he was afraid of his reaction, but because he was ashamed and disgusted with himself. Ed had no idea when he started to give a damn about Mustang's opinion of him, but there was no denying it; that selfish part of his mind would do anything just to keep the older alchemist from learning the truth and becoming just as ashamed and disgusted in him as he was with himself.

He wasn't sure why, but something prompted him to step up to the door and move to unlock it. However, the man on the other side cleared his throat in that moment, causing him to pause just before his hand touched the knob.

"Listen," the colonel began slowly with something very unfamiliar lacing his tone. He had no idea how to describe it, but whatever was different, it was heavy and urged him to listen carefully. "I know this has been hard on you, but-" he paused for a moment, clearly struggling with his words for once in his life. "I just-" A deep sigh sounded on the other side of the door as his apparent discomfort became almost palpable in the air. "Shit," he breathed, almost too quietly for the teenager to hear. Had the situation been any different, Ed would had laughed at him for being so speechless for a change.

Little did Mustang know that he didn't need to spell it out in order for Edward to understand. He was just beginning to realize that the ambitious, egocentric superior officer who he insulted on a near-to-daily basis had much more to him than it seemed. As for what else was there, Ed had no idea, nor did he dare to go into it at the moment.

Edward finally turned the lock on the doorknob, telling himself that it was only to save the colonel from pathetically stammering over his own words any longer- it didn't suit him. He steadily pulled the door open just as Mustang had abruptly stood up straight, having been leaning on it before. It appeared that he had only bothered to remove the blue military jacket upon returning to the house, and looked just as tired and worn as he sounded. He was also lacking his gloves, Ed noted, but assumed they were just hidden in his pockets.

Ed's insides coiled at the sight of him as his last conversation with Riece flooded into his mind once more, leaving him unable to look the man in the eyes. He shook the thought aside to the best of his ability and opened his mouth. He was almost tempted to just blurt out everything that he had been holding in, but still, he refrained.

"If you have something to say, then just say it."

Seconds ticked by without a response. Ed had to fight the urge to look up, knowing that he would most likely let something slip if he did.

"Hey." The blond could feel Mustang's eyes on him. "Look at me." He did nothing for a short, hesitant moment, all while knowing that it was a futile battle to fight. Finally, he forced his head up to look at the colonel. He wasn't sure what to expect, but in spite of the warnings in his voice, the pained, almost distressed shadow that flickered in his eyes caught him off guard. Mustang wasn't supposed to look like that.

Edward dropped his gaze.

The stiffness in the air was a sure sign that the older man still had much on his mind, and much more he wanted to say. If Ed were to be honest with himself, he actually wanted to hear him out. It was a rare occurrence, given their history, but whatever was on his mind would continue to go unsaid for a while longer.

"The food's getting cold."

Edward blinked at nothing for several moments, until his shoulders slumped as he relented. There was apparently no way of getting out of eating something at this point, so he might as well get it over with. With a faint sigh slipping past his lips, he wordlessly turned away from the man and began down the stairs. He paid the footsteps behind him no mind as he turned into the kitchen, sparing a moment to glance at the white plastic bag sitting on the counter, and the distinct smell of Xingese food in the air.

One whiff of the food had him thinking that he just might be able to swallow some of it for a fraction of a second. However, his stomach recoiled when Mustang walked past him to approach the wrapped up meal. Just one glance at the man was enough to send his mind into a revived panic all over again.

The blond forced himself to sit down and promptly laid his head down on the cool wooden table, partly to block out the sight and therefor the thoughts of Mustang, and partly to keep himself from feeling nauseous. But after several seconds, he reluctantly looked up again to see the older alchemist struggling with undoing the knot that tied the plastic bag shut. He then tried to simply rip through the plastic, but it only stretched in response. Entirely fed up with the pointless battle, Mustang opened a drawer and pulled out a knife at random, quickly ripping the bag open, nearly spilling out the Xingese contents in the process. With an annoyed huff, he abandoned the blade on the counter in favor for collecting more practical silverware and plates.

A small, amused smile tugged at his solemn expression, but lacked the strength to last longer than a moment. As the man walked over to the table, Ed rose his head and kept a steady gaze on the food that was assembled in the center. Perhaps Mustang would be satisfied if he just ate a few pieces of chicken.

Knowing that his automail did not have the fineness required for chopsticks, he reluctantly picked up his fork and then began serving himself a minimal amount of food, all while pretending that he didn't notice the heavy set of eyes that were watching him. Ed must have gotten himself a fair amount, because Mustang didn't comment when he leaned back in his seat and drew his attention back down to his own plate.

Edward knew that Mustang was just waiting for the perfect opportunity, or a sign, or something that would allow him to continue the conversation. But what could Ed even say? Just merely thinking about his meeting with Riece made him feel sick to his stomach.

_I want you to kill Colonel Roy Mustang._

Absolutely not.

But... but what if Ed actually hurt him? Could he really trust himself not to, especially when this unknown deadline that was set by Riece drew closer? He wanted to swiftly say no, he would not, and leave it at that, but an irrational fear remained.

If he somehow lost all reason and control and did something he would regret, then his life would change forever. Everything that he had grown to appreciate would be whisked away and he had no idea what would be left.

If that were to happen, he would certainly never get to sit at Mustang's table, or take up his guest room, or lock himself up in his study ever again. He would miss it, admittedly. Even though he was constantly drowning in paranoia and fear for Al's safety, there were very brief moments during his stay when he felt like everything would be okay. When he was marveling at the man's miniature library or bickering over lunch, he had felt as close to peaceful as he had in what seemed like a long time. Those short moments of solace reminded him of better times; back when he didn't have any worries.

If Edward were to screw up and destroy all of that...

But no- no, nothing like that was going to happen. It couldn't. He wouldn't allow it.

With Riece's time limit approaching, he had to figure something out, and soon.

"This is getting out of hand," Mustang sighed from across the table as he set his silverware down. Edward looked up impulsively, then imminently regretted it as a foreboding fear tightened around his chest, impeding his breathing. That unwavering, natural confidence and determination that was always evident in his dark eyes still remained, but mixed with something much more sad. Even the past few minutes could not dissuade the man from helping.

_Kill Colonel Roy Mustang._

_No._

"It's easy to see that whatever happened is eating you alive. Whatever it is, you need to tell me before it gets worse." He spoke as if he had already guessed it. "Come on, Ed... Please-"

Edward didn't quite catch what he said after that. He didn't think he had ever been more tempted to admit everything, consequences be damned. Colonel Mustang didn't say please very often. In this instance, it was so much more than that; he was  _begging_  Ed to tell him. He could see it in his face and hear it in his voice so clearly that it hurt. Mustang must had been positive that whatever the problem was, he could do something about it. Maybe he was right.

It would be so easy to shut his mind down for a moment and spill everything in seconds; that was all it would take. In spite of everything he had told himself for weeks now, he thought that if he were to trust the older man with the truth, then perhaps things would turn out okay... Maybe it wasn't as bad as he made it out to be, and Mustang could fix everything in an instant.

But what if he was wrong? What if he was overestimating him? What if the rest of the military or Riece got involved and ruined everything? Would he be risking Al's safety somehow? Could he afford to, even if the risks appeared to be minimal?

_No, don't think about that. It's not worth it._

At this point, what was really the harm? He had to do something; telling Mustang was potentially a very productive option.

_No, shut up. The risks-_

But he knew there was no other choice. He needed to do something!

 _No, shut up, shut up!_ He could not let himself be swayed into doing anything hasty. Not when Al-

 _Listen to reason_ , the insistent part of his mind told him sternly. He could trust Mustang. Besides, did he really think that the colonel would do something to jeopardize Al's safety because of what Ed did? He was given no reason to believe that Mustang would even hold his actions against him.

_But I don't know that for certain. Maybe-_

"Fullmetal?"

But he  _did_ know. This was Mustang he was talking about; he had proven himself countless times already. Edward would be a selfish coward for not telling him!

_Shut up- that's true- but shut up!_

Just tell him the truth!

"Ed?"

Even if he did end up hating Edward for what he did, he would have deserved it anyway. Did he honestly think he could hide from it? Of course he couldn't; he knew that all along.

_This isn't about me trying to hide, it's about saving Alphonse! I don't care what happens after that! I can't risk it..._

He could lose Al if he didn't do something.  _It's either tell Mustang the truth, or kill him!_

"SHUT UP!"

A loud clang rang through the air as silverware bounced from the table when Ed's fist blindly collided with it. He failed to realize that he had actually said anything until the voice in his head was replaced by silence. His eyes opened slowly, immediately falling on his curled fist on the table, before moving up to meet Mustang's startled gaze. Even when caught off guard, he still managed to give almost nothing away. He just stared at Ed with an unreadable expression, giving him time to realize what he had just done.

"Ed-" he began slowly and carefully, as if he was talking to a wild animal.

"Oh god," the teenager muttered under his breath as he forced his fist to loosen. He had just yelled at the colonel for literally nothing, all because he was arguing with himself. He must have really been losing it, if he couldn't even distinguish the difference between talking in his head and yelling out loud. Mustang probably thought he was insane.

Edward pressed his palms over his eyes and clenched his jaw. He couldn't bring himself to look at Mustang's expression any longer. "Uh- I'm sorry, I- just don't ask. Please don't ask." Hands still over his eyes, he propped his elbows on the table and tried not to think about the judgments and concerns that were likely swarming the other man's brain. He could almost feel his thoughts in the air- confused, worried, and that pained uselessness that Ed was already so personally familiar with...

"What are you so afraid of?" Mustang's tone wasn't at all condemning or accusing, but just legitimately curious. "Why can't you tell me?"

His eyes flickered beneath his hands as if to open, but he wouldn't dare look up at the man on the other end of the table.

He was afraid of so many things. He was afraid of being hated and judged, he was afraid of Al suffering because of him, he was afraid of Riece getting away with this, he was afraid of what he may end up doing, he was afraid of what he had already done.

He barely stiffed a gasp when a warmth from his eyes met his hands. He hated it. He hated it so much. Why was he so petty and weak? The embarrassment of crying in Mustang's kitchen only added to the many spiraling emotions and thoughts and burdens that threatened to suffocate him.

"I can't tell you." His voice cracked, emphasizing the sheer weakness that tightly wrapped itself around him.

"You need to talk about this before it kills you."

He lowered his hands, staring at Mustang through his fingers. If only he knew that it wasn't Ed's life that was in danger. The colonel let nothing slip, but the teenager was certain that he was inwardly marveling at how pathetic he must have looked; hair disheveled and eyes rimmed with red. He was a mess.

Roy intertwined his fingers on the table, staring down at them in thought when he was met with more silence. "This can't keep going on forever."

Ed could only noiselessly agree.. One way or another, things would change drastically as the events continue to unfold against his control.

Perhaps his best chance was to just tell Mustang everything... He shook his head slowly, knowing that he needed to think about it further. He couldn't just make a decision like that in an instant, ignoring the fact that he technically had weeks to figure it out.

"I... I need to... think..."

Ed didn't see Mustang set his jaw and shut his eyes as pure discontent flashed across his visage. His grip on his own hands tightened for a second before the tension was forced out of his body with a soundless exhale.

"Alright," the colonel relented as he stood up from his seat. The squeak of the chair's legs against the wooden flooring pulled Ed's attention back to the present. He watched silently as the dark haired man brought his plate and the leftover food over to the sink to be cleaned and washed away. But upon setting everything down, he only sighed and turned away. Mustang never left his kitchen without cleaning up afterwards, but the wariness that emanated around him allowed no room for judgment.

Mustang moved over to the archway that led into the living room, then paused with a hand on its' frame. Edward pulled his eyes away and buried his head in his hands once more.

"Damn it," the man breathed quietly. "You need to talk to me, Ed."

"...I know that."

That was the last thing he heard for the rest of the night. Mustang went upstairs, leaving Edward alone in the kitchen with only his abusive thoughts for company. He knew the older alchemist would have preferred to stay and pry until he got the answer he was looking for, but Ed had quite the knack for pushing people away.


	15. Chapter 15

_Edward knew that alleyway well. He recognized the cracked concrete beneath his feet, the worn, abused brick walls on his sides, the rows of trash cans, and the heavy, metal door that separated him from the laughter of oblivious adults and the overbearing scent of alcohol._

_He had revisited that place countless times already. He knew why he was there, he knew what was going to happen, and he knew there was no stopping it._

_The large metal door creaked open, allowing the voices to seep out, scratching his eardrums with their misplaced joy. Bright, colorful lights hit the opposing brick wall until a figure moved into its path, casting a dark shadow across the alley._

_Victor Tresler stepped out and the door shut loudly behind him. As always, the man failed to notice the kid with the gun in his artificial hand. Ed raised the weapon, watching the black material glint in the yellow light of the street lamps. His hand shook subtly and his mind screamed at him to put it down. He could find another way. Maybe things would end differently this time._

_It was hopeful thinking, but the greater part of his brain knew it was nonsense._

_Before his own mind could argue further, his automail finger curled around the trigger. With an ear-splitting bang, the bullet ripped across the alley and tore straight through Tresler's chest before he could ever see it coming. He staggered back, then finally turned his head until he was looking at Edward with an expression of pure horror and disbelief. The older man stuttered something incomprehensible, tottered on his feet, then collapsed onto the cold ground._

_Edward looked down at his body with a passive expression, although he was recoiling on the inside. The blood slowly pooled out and seeped into cracks, spreading across the ground without showing any sign of stopping. Only after noticing the clear drops falling into the thick red liquid and distort waves into its surroundings did he realize that it was raining._

_He mentally screaming at himself, insisting that he should have tried to do something to stop this from happening. He was disgusted as always, but it was nothing more than a broken record now. How many times would it take? How much blood would have to be spilled before he completely lost his mind?_

_But what could he do about it when he didn't so much as have control over his own actions? He was nothing more than a cog in a greater machine, forced to move by uncontrollable circumstances, then do his part to keep things moving against his will._

_"Fullmetal?"_

_Edward flinched and spun around as his heart jumped into his throat. There stood Roy Mustang at the edge of the alleyway, hair matted by the rain and dressed in his military uniform that was highlighted from the yellow glow of the streetlamps behind him. His expression was hidden from view by shadows, but Ed was certain that he was staring wide-eyed at the corpse by his feet._

_The blond wanted to ask why he was there, but the words refused to form, leaving him to dumbly gape at the colonel's unexpected presence._

_Mustang hastily knelt by the body and checked for a pulse as Ed took a step back. His mind didn't provide him with a reason, but knew that it was a bad sign that the older alchemist had appeared. Not only did it leave him with a foreboding nervousness, but he didn't want Mustang to know what he had done. But now, there was clearly no hiding it._

_"He's dead," the colonel breathed, to tell himself rather than the blond, not yet rising from his position on the ground. "Ed, what happen-" he paused as his eyes set on the gun in the kid's hand. Edward watched in slow motion as realization dawned on the man in phases. From surprise, to denial, to anger, then to a mournful acceptance that tore at something in Ed's chest until it cracked and shattered. He wanted to deny it in a vain hope to salvage Mustang's fleeting opinion of him, but he would only look like a fool. He searched his mind for something to say, something to make things better, but the man put a pause to his desperate thoughts before he could._

_"You did this," he stated almost in a whisper, looking at the kid for any sign of confirmation. When he received no answer, his eyes darkened. "What the hell were you th-" He froze stiff, cutting himself off just as a loud burst of thunder and lightning erupted in the sky._

_Edward hesitated, unsure why he stopped mid-accusation, until his gaze fell on the dark red that stained the blue fabric of Mustang's uniform, then to the faint wisp of smoke that drifted from the gun's barrel._

_Ed had just shot him._

_He inhaled sharply and tried to drop the weapon, but his fingers wouldn't move._

_The colonel stared at Ed with sheer confusion until it slowly warped into a deep, disgusted betrayal; he couldn't bear to look at it any longer, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. The older alchemist's balance wavered until he fell back with a pained grunt when his head collided with the concrete._

_"I- I didn't want to," Edward trailed off, cringing at the crack in his voice. He wasn't sure if he was referring to killing Tresler, or shooting Mustang- probably both._

_"You didn't want to?!" he spat back, face contorted with both rage and agony as he clenched at his shirt above the bullet wound, paying no mind to the blood that stained his fingers and dripped down his arm. "What good does that do me now? Agh- shit," he growled through his teeth and shut his eyes tightly to bear the pain that had ripped through his body. "I never should have trusted you."_

_Ed opened his mouth to defend himself, but he knew there was nothing he could say. Mustang was dying in a dark alleyway because of him. He didn't deserve anyone's trust; he never did._

_"Wait; I- I can fix this," he gasped as the idea hit him, and looked around the alley frantically for something to use or someone to call out to. When he saw only garbage and an aging corpse, he pried his fingers off from around the gun and tossed it to the ground. Ed then pulled off his red coat and dropped to his knees by Mustang's writhing body. "Just hang on; I'll-" He moved to press the fabric on the wound, but Mustang reached out and locked his wrist into a bloody, iron grip. Edward flinched from the touch, but forced himself to face the man's furious stare._

_"You... you-" He paused to cough and choke on the blood that made its way into his throat, allowing it to instead drip down his chin and neck. "I invited you into my home, I tried to help you, I did all I could to protect you- and this is how you repay me?" His grasp on Ed's wrist slackened until his slippery hand fell to his side as the life steadily drained out of him._

_The teenager tried desperately to find something to say or do to solve everything, but came out lacking, as always. He dropped the coat by his side, knowing that he couldn't save the man's life even if Mustang would let him try, and slacked his shoulders in defeat. "I'm sorry," he choked, voice shaking with a conglomeration of emotions and thoughts. It was all he could think to say. He wanted to say more, but he just hoped Mustang understood._

_"You're sorry? That's nice," he scoffed sarcastically, coldly glaring up at Ed with narrowed eyes as he effortlessly ignored the rain that dripped down his face and mixed with the blood. "You know Alphonse isn't going to forgive you for this; no one will."_

_The mention of Al felt like a punch to the gut; Edward flinched and broke eye contact as he tried and failed to fight back the fear, the regret, and the guilt. It was all too much, and he was certain he would soon give in to its weight._

_"I know- I'm sorry... I'm so sorry." He shut his eyes, hoping to repel the tears that formed in his eyes and blurred his vision. The suffocating tightness in his chest kept him from feeling embarrassed or ashamed about it._

_"You're crying," Mustang felt the need to point out after coughing violently once more. Edward glanced at him and hastily tried to wipe away the tears and rainwater that obscured his sight. The colonel smirked mirthlessly at him in a way that usually meant he knew he was winning. "But of course you are... After all, you've already lost so much; and now you're going to lose even more; you have no one to blame but yourself."_

_Edward remained silent. He didn't have a response, because Mustang was right, but he was also under the impression that he was talking about something much more than he was brought to believe. The colonel caught on to his confusion, and his lifeless smirk widened ever so slightly._

_"I'gave you something that you thought you could never have again; a home, belonging, sense of family," the man rambled off, then paused. His eyes narrowed as he visibly struggling with his tunneling vision, and each word became more strenuous to say than the last. Edward watched him quietly, not quite sure what he as getting at. He always had a family; well, Al-_

_"You know what I mean," the man snapped as though he read his thoughts. "There was a part of you that thought I could potentially replace your useless father." He spoke like it was a well known fact, leaving no room for denial. "You thought that I would actually want to... And maybe I did, but-" he paused and grimaced as another tremor of pain ran through him. After several seconds filled only by rain pattering against the stone ground and metal trash cans, the colonel exhaled laboriously through his teeth and looked back up at the kid, the grin long gone from his tense visage. "I now understand why your father left you."_

_Edward started and held his breath as if he had just been slapped across the face. "Wait- no, I can-"_

_"Give it a rest, Fullmetal," Mustang growled as he glared blankly at the sky, his eyes no longer able to focus. "Just... leave me alone before you wreck something else."_

_"You want to... to be alone?" He echoed nervously. Ed figured that the very least he could do was remain with the man until the end, but apparently, he was deemed unfit for even doing that._

_"You ruined my life!" Mustang growled as something wrathful flashed in his eyes. "I was going to do great things for this country, but you brought an end to it all. I'd rather die alone than die with you sitting next to me."_

_His mind blurred together and his mouth was incredibly dry, leaving a sour, rotten taste behind. He scrambled to say something, perhaps apologize again, but even his voice had all but abandoned him._

_"Just go away!" The colonel sent a hateful glare in Ed's general direction that froze him to the core. "I don't ever want to see your miserable face again!"_

* * *

A horrified cry died in Ed's throat as his eyes flung open and he stared at the dark ceiling, focusing only on his own heavy breathing. Static filled his mind and blood pumped loudly through his ears. The room was spinning around him, but he felt distant and unconnected from it, as if he wasn't fully awake, but didn't have the awareness to recognize it.

Without making a conscious decision, he pushed himself up out of the warmth of the sheets and stumbled towards the door in a frantic rush, driven only by a single desire. The cold air sent a ruthless shiver down his spine and quickly chilled his automail; metal that connected to his skin froze him to the very bone. The idea of bringing the blanket with him flashed across his foggy mind, but it was already too late by then.

The blood was everywhere; he could smell it, taste it, feel it- it tainted everything he touched, but he couldn't stop to care as he yanked the door open and nearly tripped into the restroom. He clamped his hands onto the faucet handles and shut his eyes, fighting the urge to throw up the contents of his stomach as the images flooded back with a vengeance.

Once the sickening nausea calmed down just enough for him to breathe, Ed squint his eyes open and stared down into the sink for all of two seconds before pushing himself back into the hallway.

He could still feel the revolting mix of rain and blood covering his hands, sticking his hair to his forehead, crusting in his metal joints, and wanted nothing more to wash it all away. But at the same time, some barely recognizable voice in the back of his head told him that it was all just a dream. There was no blood coating him from head to toe, and more importantly, Mustang was alive. Which meant that he could wake up if Ed turned on the sink to wash it all off. The hysterical blond didn't know how he would react if he saw the man right now, and didn't want to find out.

Blinking through the unlit hall, he blindly stumbled towards the staircase and quickly went down with a hand hovering gingerly next to the wall just in case he started to lose his balance. He didn't want to track blood across the clean house.

Ed slipped on the last step but promptly ignored the new ache in his ankle as he threw himself towards the kitchen sink and turned the freezing cold water on. The sudden frigid sensation on his skin as he dropped his hands underneath the sink's spray nearly caused him to back away, but the desire to get the blood off pulled at his very consciousness, allowing him no room to think about anything else.

His mind was an unstable haze, clouded by vivid images of his nightmares that were strong enough to overshadow the reality around him. All he could hear were gunshots, rain, and the accusations that he rightfully deserved. All he could see were their eyes, and the blood on his own hands. Both Tresler and Mustang had the same expression when he shot them; they were so _confused._ In those moments, they could not understand why their own lives were fleeing from their bodies, and why a kid was pointing a gun towards their chests.

Victor Tresler wasn't watching, at least in the dream, and was perhaps more fortunate because of it; he didn't see it coming. But Mustang was staring right at him and still managed to be thrown completely off guard. He never expected Ed to betray him like that. He never expected to die by the hand of his own subordinate. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve it at all; but did Ed care? No, of course not. He was too wrapped up in his own selfish problems.

Edward hung his head over the sink and cupped his hands under the water again to bring it up to his face. He rubbed his eyes, desperately hoping to rid the painfully clear pictures from the inside of his eyelids as the water dripped down his nose and chin. Ignored how the majority of the water drained through his automail hand, he repeated the motion multiple times.

 _Murderer_ , Ed vaguely heard echo in his mind, unable to tell if it was a fleeting memory of someone calling him that, or if he was internally screaming at himself. _You worthless murderer!_

He clenched his teeth together and breathed through his mouth, willing his mind to go blank. The house's cold air further cooled the water that rolled down his face and gave him something tangible to focus on.

Rain was pounding against the windows and a strong wind whistled through the small alleyways that circled the townhouse but Edward failed to recognize these sounds as he listened only to his own hitched breathing and his racing pulse.

He asked himself why he would ever pull the trigger in the first place in the back of his mind, even if it was all only just a dream. If the subconscious reflected reality, then was Ed's mind trying to tell him that it was possible for him to actually _kill_ Mustang?

But he couldn't. He was told that he had to, but he was sure that he couldn't.

Riece's damnable voice echoed in his mind as he warily rubbed his eyes. _I want you to kill Colonel Roy Mustang._

Edward shook his head, feeling contrite for even letting the thought wander back into his head. But as he currently didn't have any control over his own thoughts, the echo immediately returned to torment him.

_Kill Colonel Roy Mustang._

Riece was probably laughing at him at that very moment, Ed decided, paying no mind to the fact that even deranged psychopaths were most likely asleep at the current hour.

His attempts to calm himself down were immediately impeded when a loud, violent burst of thunder shook the house. And suddenly, the gun was back in his hand; he was standing in the dark alley besides the bar, holding the cursed weapon up, and the rain continued to fall. _Kill Roy Mustang._ The sky roared, and the trigger was pulled back. The bullet slid out of the muzzle and cut through the rain as the recoil hit his arm, sending tremors up to his shoulder.

Mustang unsuspectingly stood just a few feet away, mistaking the deadly blast for thunder in the darkness. The small bullet effortlessly tore a hole through his damp uniform, puncturing the skin, ripping through muscle, cracking ribs, into the heart and out the other side.

Ed gasped sharply and snapped his eyes open to stare blankly into nothing, mentally begging the images to go away. The water dripping down his face tried to pull him back to that place, reminding him all too well of the rainfall and the splattering blood.

His lungs begged for air, but his harsh, ragged breaths did little to appease him as he blindly swiped his hands across the counter in search for a rag, or something else to dry his face off with. But as he frantically moved his hands over the cold surface, his left thumb made contact with something that pricked his skin, sending a mild jolt through his hand.

Edward paused his movements, then gingerly pressed his thumb and index finger together; just as he had dreaded to expect, he recognized the slippery liquid that had a slight stickiness to it when he moved his fingers apart.

The familiarity of it made his head throb and distracted him from wondering what cut him.

Once again, he found himself trapped in the vicious cycle; Ed felt the rain fall against his jacket, the cold wind on his skin, and the eerie, foreboding sensation that clogged itself in his mind, chest and throat, as if it _wanted_ him to suffocate and die.

He saw a rapidly decaying corpse at his feet, he heard footsteps behind him, and he knew what was going to happen next.

"Ed?" Mustang's voice rung in his head, nearly deafening him. He expected to hear it, and yet his body still flinched.

He hated that cycle, but after weeks of trial and error, he had long since proven to himself that he had no power over it, no matter how often he tried to convince himself otherwise. It was all going to repeat itself over and over again; just like last time, and the time before that- and there was no way out. Perhaps if he just let his mind go through the motions, it would be easier for him in the end.

Ed relentingly allowed his consciousness drift as his hand automatically reached out for the weapon.

* * *

Roy only stared for several long seconds, trying to comprehend what he was looking at. Had his sixth sense not shaken some awareness into him upon entering the kitchen, he likely would have missed it completely; the long kitchen knife that was made for dicing onions was pointed directly at him, quivering in its' wielder's unsteady grip.

Even in the nearly pitch black room, lit only by the dim remnants of outdoor street lamps, Roy was still able to see a delirious fear swarming in Ed's foggy, vacant eyes. Something in his vacant expression told him that he wasn't quite _there_. His best guess was that the kid was hallucinating someone else standing before the tip of the blade.

Roy silently cursed himself for not cleaning up the kitchen earlier as countless possible explanations for Ed's behavior flooded his mind. Why did this have to happen the one night he decided to pull a knife out to open a damn bag, then fail to put it away? His bad luck was truly incredible. Or perhaps this was Ed's bad luck in action.

He willed himself to stand completely still, afraid that any sudden movements would set the confused teenager off. He had to wake him up before he instincts got the best of him.

"Ed, it's just me" he began calmly, all previous feelings of grogginess completely gone as alarms chimed in his head. "Just put it down." Edward stared at him wide-eyed, showing no sign of recollection, and was mumbling something nearly incomprehensible; Roy thought he heard him say something about Al, but couldn't be certain.

He cleared his throat and repeated himself, but in a sterner tone of a direct order. "Put the knife down."

Edward blinked as his eyes darted between the knife and Roy as if he too was trying to comprehend the situation. All at once, the fear that was evident on his expression gave way to raw terror as understanding struck him. He gaped at the blade for a moment, wanting to speak but lacking the voice to do so.

His hands shook violently until his grip loosened and the knife fell to the ground with a sharp clang. Edward's limbs turned to jelly and he slowly followed it to the floor, appearing far more miserable than Roy had ever thought possible with a grimace smeared across his face and fingers clawing through his bangs.

It was only after the colonel had crouched down in front of him did he realize that Ed was sobbing. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before something switched on in his brain without his consent, forcing him to quickly move past the confusion that came with seeing Edward Elric break down.

As Ed buried his face in his hands, Roy picked up the knife and almost threw it in the island cabinet besides him, before directing his attention back to the blond.

Ed pushed his back up against the counter and curled in on himself, struggling to speak against his uncontrollable breathing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry; oh god, I'm so sorry," he repeated obsessively through his sniveling.

"Calm down; it's-"

"I can't take this anymore!" Edward yelled behind his hands as they nearly ripped at his bangs. "I'm sorry, sorry, I- I-"

"Snap out of it, Ed," Roy insisted as soon as the teen started stuttering.

Ed paused without looking up, but Roy wasn't sure if it was because he heard and understood him, or because he was gasping for the air that couldn't get through his hysteria.

"… I'm sorry." His voice was a broken whisper, almost inaudible underneath the heavy rain that persisted against the windows outside. This time, however, it sounded like he was apologizing directly to Roy, rather than to the air around him.

"It's alright. I'm fine; everything's fine." He wasn't about to hold anything against the kid when he was in such a state, even if he held a knife up to his face. But of course he was well aware that everything was definitely not _fine_ overall; but perhaps Ed just needed to hear that, in that single moment, he was safe.

But Edward wasn't mollified as he intended and instead shook his head vehemently and tried to wipe the tears from his eyes.

It was at that point that Roy decided that this was going nowhere fast. He inched forward on his knees as Ed kept his gaze downcast. The colonel swiftly placed his hands firmly on the kid's shoulders, finally earning his direct attention. Edward's head snapped up as soon as he made contact with a muffled gasp.

A lump stubbornly formed in Roy's throat as he caught Ed's aghast stare, wanting nothing more than to banish all of his troubles away with the snap of his fingers. He opened his mouth to speak, but the blond interrupted by trying to push him away.

"Don't touch me! G-go away," he cried but his attempts to remove Roy's hands lacked any real strength.

"I'm not going anywhere." The conviction that automatically slipped into his tone spoke for itself; he truly meant what he said. Far too many times now had he decided to leave Ed alone, figuring that he wasn't going to be of any help. He thought that staying would only cause them both more unnecessary strife. He would only feel useless and incompetent, and had no desire to add any more stress to Edward's arduous load. Now that he was beyond the breaking point, Roy realized that he was being foolish and selfish. The kid needed him, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

His words convinced Ed to pause his rambling for a moment as he stared into space. Judging by the look in his reddened eyes, Roy could discern that Ed was absorbing the true weight behind what he said. But instead of stirring any sense of comfort, he began to break down even further. He halfheartedly tried to push himself away from the colonel as he coughed and choked on his own distressful emotions.

"Calm down Ed," he nearly begged. "Everything is f-"

"Shut up!" Edward gasped suddenly, squeezing his eyes closed as he tried to shrink into the corner. "Nothing is fine; don't you get it?! I'm a damned murderer!" He screamed with a livid mix of rage and despair that echoed through the house, cutting the temperature of the room in half.

Roy paused, giving nothing away, besides the stiffness in his hands. He always told himself that he wouldn't believe it until Ed had personally told him, but now that he has... He wasn't as shocked as he figured he would have been when Edward confessed. Perhaps he was too tired to fully digest it, or his judgment was still plagued by an unreasonable denial, or maybe he already begun to accept the unfortunate truth long ago. As soon as he first laid eyes on the frightened teenager at the corner cafe weeks prior, he knew something was terribly wrong, but he foolishly ignored it, regardless of his better judgment.

Edward was watching him past his bangs, looking for any sign of judgment as he pathetically tried to control and hide the tears that persistently fell. Roy knew that he was waiting for a reply, but what could he say in response to _that?_ His first thought was to ask him for details; since he was opening up, maybe Roy could finally find out exactly what happened. But he didn't have to dwell on it long before deciding to push that idea under the rug for now, knowing that Ed was in no state to retell the story. He was still hysterical and maybe delirious, and Roy had no interest in throwing him into a full-blown panic attack by digging up such traumatic memories. So instead, he scrambled his tired mind for something else to say, but still came out lacking.

"I knew it," Edward whispered at least, dropping his eyes from the colonel. His voice cracked and wavered when he continued; "Go ahead and hate me. I deserve it anyway," he sniffed and again tried to remove Roy's hands from his shoulders by pushing back on his wrists.

But his grip only strengthened as he briefly met Ed's depressed eyes with a narrowed gaze. "I don't hate you." Part of him was surprised that the kid could even think Roy would turn against him so easily.

Ed shot his head up at the man, watery eyes alight with a sparking anger, yet Roy still did not pull away. "I should be hated! I _killed_ Tresler! His blood is on my hands now, and it always will be! I- I-" he clamped his teeth together and looked down at nothing. His burst of rage simmered quietly until it was replaced by a drowning sorrow that even Roy could feel as he watched. The kid's shoulders quivered as he struggled to swallow whatever words were on his tongue.

And then he looked back up. Roy's breath caught in his throat when he was hit with the amount of sheer self loathing that looked back at him in those golden eyes. Watery streaks ran down his face and his eyes were puffy and tired, reminding Roy once again of how young Ed really was.

He spoke in a whisper, laced with overwhelming defeat and sorrow, that was almost lost beneath the rainfall. "I just wanted to save Al..."

Roy stared speechlessly as his mind spun with multiple thoughts all too quickly for him to understand. He was nearly oblivious to Ed's slight flinch when his grip on his shoulders tightened as he closed his eyes, purely to save himself from looking into Edward's crippling, agonizing stare.

Fullmetal was currently enduring this pointless suffering solely because of one man's twisted, sick game. He just wanted to be reunited with his brother; Riece must have been holding him captive to control Ed like a puppet. That would explain why he was so distressed about apparently killing Tresler; he was forced to do it, or risk losing his brother forever. And even after doing as he was ordered to, Riece still had Alphonse hidden away somewhere to hang over the older Elric's head.

Roy should have been there to help.

He should have done something sooner.

He should have found Riece by now and burnt him alive until only a miserable pile of ash remained.

"I knew you wouldn't forgive me," Edward sniffed as he tried to rid his eyes of newly forming tears before they could escape. He had all but given up on forcing Roy to move, and his shoulders slumped, having mistaken Roy's silence for resentment. "No one should. I just-"

Edward's sentence was efficiently cut off when Roy exhaled warily and pulled the kid towards him, trapping him in a hug.

Edward tensed, having been caught completely off guard, but he didn't immediately fight back. "W-what are you doing?!"

"Shut up, Ed," Roy sighed, trying halfheartedly to keep his own disquiet out of his voice. For once, the younger alchemist obeyed as the colonel sighed and tightened his arms around him ever so slightly, as if that alone was enough to make it all better.

When he first tracked Fullmetal down and forced him to hide out at his house, he did it primarily out of an obligation to protect his subordinate. In hindsight, perhaps he should have at least considered the possibility that his priorities could change after spending over two weeks straight with the kid. That alone was just more proof that he didn't put as much thought into the plan as usual.

He was convinced that Edward was completely innocent and letting him fall into the hands of the overeager military for a simple, seemingly baseless accusation would have been disgustingly unjust. Now that the truth had been thrown at him with a force that left him struggling to properly grasp onto it, he found that he wasn't as shaken as he had expected.

Of course Roy hated to think that Ed was forced to chose between the life of an innocent stranger and his brother. He hated to know that the kid who was fighting back tears in his arms was being haunted with the same murderous nightmares that he had personally endured since the war. He hated that that he had let this happen while pretending to be ignorant. But the facts had been staring at him for far too long to justify feeling surprised.

In spite of that, nothing had changed. If anything, Roy was only more motivated to keep Edward from incarceration. He didn't care that it was technically his job to act on this information. It was no longer about simply protecting a subordinate or doing what he thought was right in the eyes of the country.

Roy only wanted him to find relief and happiness, far away from any dirty cell. He wanted to see Edward live life with his brother and for them to grow into even more remarkable people than they already were. He wanted them to enjoy every day to the fullest and make a difference; change people's' lives and embrace everything the world had to offer, because that was what the Elrics deserved: only the best. And most importantly, Roy wanted to _be there_ and see it all for himself. He wanted to be in their lives, be apart of it, and watch as they made their mark on the world for the better.

But instead, they had to suffer through hell for no damn reason. It was just so incredibly _tragic._

Roy released a shuddered exhale once he realized that he had been sitting in the dark silence for what felt like several minutes with his arms wrapped around Ed's cold shoulders. However, he doubted the kid minded the quiet, as he was still struggling to compose himself, with little success.

"Hey... Mustang," Ed choked out quietly.

"Yeah?"

"... Look, I- I really-"

"I swear, if you say you're sorry one more time," Roy cut in, though his threat was hollow.

"I mean it!" He felt Edward shrink when his treasonous voice cracked, his voice muffled slightly by Roy's shirt. "I know I should've told you sooner, but I- I just-" He was unable to get the words out and promptly shut his mouth.

Roy wasn't going to sugarcoat it just because Fullmetal was emotional distressed; he _should_ have told him the truth sooner. But dwelling on what could have happened was just as pointless as regretting it. But regardless, there had to be more keeping Ed's mouth shut than what he could see.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked slowly, noticing the slight strain evident in his tone.

Ed tensed for a moment and allowed a rugged sigh. "I... I was just stupid and afraid. I didn't want- I thought you'd-"

"You thought I would hate you for it," Roy supplied to end the kid's rambling, just before he nodded gratefully in response.

He stifled a small chuckle despite himself. "That's not possible." Even though Edward liked to be loud and obnoxious on most days, Roy knew he wasn't capable of doing anything that would cause him to honestly hate the boy.

Edward fell quiet for a moment and possibly stopped breathing altogether as he sat on the words. Seconds later he faintly shook, despitebeing allowed little movement within the enbrace. "You can't just- How can you be so _nice?_ I- I... tried to kill you!"

Roy blinked at the empty darkness of his kitchen as Ed's words repeated in his mind, mixing with the pouring rain. He couldn't have possibly meant that he consciously knew who he was pointing the knife at in that moment, right? But he wasn't willing to toss the idea off the table just yet, since that type of stubborn confidence caused this problem to begin with. But still...

"You just weren't thinking clearly. I'm not going to hold it against you."

"What- No, don't try to _defend_ me," Edward reproved as he tried to push the man away again. His movements lacked his usual strength, as if he was trying to get away simply because he thought he should, and not because he truly wanted to. But Roy kept his arms wrapped around him, knowing that if he let go, Ed would only close himself off once again. For both of their sake, he wouldn't allow that to happen.

When it became clear that he wasn't going anywhere, Edward groaned in defeat and slackened. Roy was beginning to think that the kid had recollected himself, until he sniffed and struggled to find his voice again, as another wave of unspoken emotion had washed over him. For what reason, the Colonel was clueless.

"I..." Ed began tentatively and swallowed. "When I went out for a walk the other day... Riece found me." Roy stiffened as that forsaken name reached his ears. The blond must have noticed the reaction, but continued nonetheless, albeit more nervously. "He told me that- that he would hurt Al unless I... k-killed you." His voice overflowed with shame and regret and the words sounded psychically painful to say. "But I wasn't going to do it! Didn't seem like an option... I didn't think you were actually standing there. It's no excuse, but I wasn't thinking. I swear, I wouldn't actually do it. B- but I was just thinking about Al and- and I- I don't know. I- I'm sorry." The words spilled out quickly as he tried to say everything with a single breath. He sounded relatively composed at the beginning, but by the end, he was on the verge of tears all over again.

Especially in his line of work, Roy had been forced to face countless crying faces for one reason or another. He was usually able to speak over their sobbing with a formulated indifference and a hint of pity or sympathy. He could easily allow himself to be empathetic for certain people, of course, but his job demanded that he be unfazed by the emotions of others, lest he allow it to affect his own performance, no matter how difficult it could be at times. From hardened veterans to children, he had seen them all break down at some point and walked away feeling overall unaffected due to sheer force of will.

But listening as Edward fell apart in his arms pulled on something in his chest, allowing him to share in his pain for reasons he wasn't very familiar with. It wasn't just because Ed was simply a crying child that made him yearn to fix all of his problems in an instant; it was because Ed was his crying child- his subordinate, his responsibility. Knowing that he specifically was suffering clawed at Roy's soul and would continue to do so until he could personally make things better for him. He needed to stop the tears and the pain, because it was just so intolerably wrong for it to continue any longer.

He tightened his hug around the young alchemist as he listened to the raw emotion that flooded out of his shaken tone. Ed shifted subtly, undoubtedly trying to wipe the moisture from his eyes with his hands. "That man... He used Al to turn me into a killer. A monster. A- a-"

"Ed. Listen to me," Roy interjected calmly, staring blankly at his kitchen counter over the blond's head. Fullmetal didn't respond, wordlessly inviting him to continue. "I've killed more people can I could ever bare to count. I've spent months surrounded by murderers; certain people who did it purely out of joy or for a sense of accomplishment. Killing came easy to them while I was drowning in my own guilt. I thought that if I could just shut it off- if I could stop myself from caring, then I could get through that damn war with my sanity intact. It wasn't until Hughes called me an idiot did I realize that my guilt was the only thing that separated me and true monsters... You aren't like them, Ed. You don't have the eyes of a killer."

Edward said nothing for a long moment, allowing the words to sink it.

"... So I'm _supposed_ to feel like this?" he asked weakly, oblivious to the fear that shone through his already fragile voice. He barely survived two weeks of riddled guilt, and surely couldn't bear to spend the rest of his life like that.

"You only need to accept it and understand the weight behind your actions, but not to the point that it becomes crippling," Roy explained with a wry smile. He was glad he was able to give it to Ed straight and save the kid from trying to figure it out for himself, like what he had once done. "Instead, use it as motivation to fix your mistakes and make up for it, even if it's impossible. But no matter how impossible it may seem, I'll be here to help you however I can."

Edward stiffened without warning, followed by a long pause where only his uneven breathing and the foul weather could he heard, until he let out a quivering exhale. "Shit," he muttered under his breath.

That was definitely not the reaction Roy had been expecting. He loosened his grip, wondering if he had somehow gotten hurt and was just now beginning to show it. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

He was just about to pull away, but his movement came to an abrupt halt when Edward finally returned the hug; he wrapped his arms around Roy's torso, clutching tightly onto the fabric of his shirt, and pressed his head into his shoulder. The colonel was left speechless as the cause for Ed's confusing reaction dawned on him.

"T-thanks." He could barely make out the muffled word, but smiled when he did. Edward was overwhelmed and was doing all he could just so show that he was grateful. Roy understood the meaning behind the single word and the volume behind his actions.

"No problem kid," he responded as warmly as his weary voice allowed and lightly ruffled his unruly hair.

Seconds passed as they remained there, in which Roy could sense that Ed was truly calming himself down after the prolonged outburst of emotion. He let his mind wander for a moment, from what was going to happen next, to how much sleep he would manage to get that night. He knew that the next day at work was going to be hell regardless, and decided to make himself some extra caffeinated coffee in the morning. But most importantly, he was brought to wonder how this advancement would affect the case. Knowing that Ed was actually not as innocent as he had made himself believe would certainly make things interesting, but he also knew that he still did not know the whole truth.

Roy softly cleared his throat. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but I still need to know the details of what happened that night. And regarding your latest meeting with Riece, come to think of it. But we can go over it later-"

"No," Ed cut in suddenly. "No, I- I need to tell you what happened." His tone gave the impression that he was trying to convince himself of that fact, just as much as Roy.

"You don't n-"

"If I don't get it over with now, I'm not sure if I ever will."

Roy sighed, but relented nonetheless. He couldn't deny that part of him wanted to have that conversation later so he could get some rest, but the majority of his mind has already accepted that tomorrow morning would be difficult whether he went to sleep now, or in a few hours hour.

"Alright," he agreed with a nod. Ed's arms fell to his side, allowing Roy to finally release the boy and shift to sit besides him against his kitchen counter on the floor. For whatever reason, not once did it occur to him to move to the living room couch, or at least get a chair.

Edward inhaled deeply and ran a hand over his eyes one last time for good measure. "Uh... I'm not sure where to begin," he admitted quietly, but usual self was beginning to return to his voice.

"Just start at the beginning." Another crack of thunder roared outside as the rain continued to fall, nearly interrupting him.

He nodded and stared solemnly ahead at nothing. Roy did the same, but watched him out of the corner of his eye.

"Okay... It started when I found a note on our door."


	16. Chapter 16

"It started when I found a note on our door."

Edward leaned back against the kitchen counter and pulled his knees up to his body. The air was cold and smelled of rain, and his automail only made it worse, chilling his insides just as badly.

With a voiceless breath, he narrowed his heavy, reddened eyes and stared blankly into the open kitchen, willing himself to remember the day in question for the first time since it occurred.

"It didn't say much; just that Al was waiting for me, come alone, tell no one, and it had a warehouse number," Ed explained, his voice feeling hollow and almost detached. He was still struggling to overcome the surge of emotions, but he steeled himself the best he could, all for the sake of preparing to delve back into the memories that he had tried to forget.

"When I got there, I didn't consider Riece a threat at first. He wasn't at all like what I expected."

"What do you mean?" Mustang interjected calmly as he stifled a yawn. Edward felt somewhat guilty for keeping him up while knowing that he had work in the morning, but not enough to postpone the much-needed conversation.

He lowered his head to stare at the ground, lazily watching the thin shadows of rain from the window stream faintly down the wood flooring. His first meeting with Riece was clear in his mind, at it always was when it returned to haunt him in the past against his control.. "He seemed so happy, and normal, and nothing like a typical kidnapper. I was too pissed to really think about it at the time, though. Especially after I found out what he did to Al."

Ed's blank stare morphed into a baleful scowl at the resurfacing memory. He felt Mustang's curious eyes on him, quietly inquiring him to elaborate. "I don't know how he did it, but he removed Al's arms and legs, then stuffed him in a wooden crate to hide him from me until I demanded to see him." Edward rested his arms on his knees.

"Apparently, he lured Al into a trap by telling him that he needed help finding his lost daughter or something- lying bastard," he growled under his breath.

"Alphonse is always too kind for his own good," Mustang mused endearingly with a weary smile. Edward glanced at him for a moment, unable to disagree. However, he couldn't say that either of them wouldn't have done the same thing in his position.

With a muted sigh, Edward rested his head on his propped up arms. "He knew about the blood seal by the time I got there." He vaguely remembered already mentioning that part several days ago, but didn't have the mind to worry about the few minor details that the colonel already knew as his mind traveled through the events.

"He was standing right next to Alphonse; right next to the seal. I couldn't do anything about it. And that's when he told me that-" Edward paused as his mouth suddenly went dry. "- that he wanted me to kill someone."

* * *

"You want me to... what?" Edward stuttered as his blood grew cold and every ounce of confidence that accompanied him into the warehouse completely abandoned him in an instant.

Riece watched him with a calm smile that quickly became unnerving as he stood besides Al's incapacitated metal body.

"Don't listen to him, Ed!" Alphonse called from the other end of the room.

"It's a fair trade," Riece continued, ignoring the younger Elric completely. "One life in exchange for another? A stranger in return for your precious brother? I believe this is what you alchemists call equivalent exchange."

The blond gave him a scathing glare.

It was a no-brainer; he proclaimed his dedication to do anything for Al often enough for anyone to know what choice he would make. Any sane person would do the same, in his position. But to simply say that he would chose one life over another was insignificant in comparison to actually being faced with the choice.

Ed always thought that if he were to sacrifice someone else's life in exchange for Al, it would be the monster who was threatening him in the first place- not an innocent civilian who he probably hasn't even met before. Every fiber in his being screamed _no_  and demanded that he find another way. He was being asked to do something that was so inexplicably wrong. But when Al's life was on the line, his moral code became irrelevant.

Perhaps part of him immediately accepted what was going to happen, and every consequence that was to follow in that moment.

Al's young, frantic voice interrupted his dark thoughts. "Don't do what he says; I'll be fine!"

Edward opened his mouth to say something reassuring to his younger brother, but his voice was lost when Riece removed Al's helmet, earning a small gasp of discontent from him. He looked as if he was trying to move away from the man, but lacking both limbs and a head left him appearing very helpless.

The kidnapper placed a hand on the armor's frame and leaned in slightly to eye the blood seal while keeping Ed in his sights.

"Don't touch him!" Ed growled through his teeth as his hands curled into tight fists by his sides. With him that close to the fragile symbol drawn in blood, he couldn't afford to move a muscle in the wrong direction.

"Make a decision, Edward," Riece sighed without removing that damn smile from his face. "It would be rude to waste my time all because you didn't value your brother's life enough to complete a simple task."

"You call this a simple task?! You can't downplay murder like that," he spat in response, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. "Human life must mean nothing to you."

"My own moral beliefs are of no importance," he said indifferently with a slight shrug of the shoulders. He glanced down at the inside of Al's armor, light eyes locked on the seal. Even without a face or actual body language, Ed could easily see that his brother was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and nervous, despite what he tried to get the older Elric to believe. "So, what do you say?"

Edward was silent for many seconds as he weighed his options. It didn't take long for him to realize that he didn't really have any options.

"Who even is this person, anyway?" he asked quietly, berating himself for cooperating.

"Ed!" Alphonse scolded tersely, afraid that he was planning on accepting the so-called deal. He couldn't quite say that one part of his mind wasn't remorsefully considering the possibility, but Al didn't need to know that. The thought alone was pushed into a dark crevice of his mind before it made him feel ill.

"Calm down Al, I'm not actually gonna do anything. Just wondering who was unlucky enough to get on this guys hit list." He spoke as casually as his voice would allow, while doubting that his brother didn't catch the nervousness that might have slipped between his words.

"Unfortunately," Riece began with a pitying smile on his face. "I can't tell you that until you agree."

With the helmet still in hand, Riece began walking across the warehouse, approaching Edward with an air of confidence that put him at pause. He was leaving his hostage alone, giving him the perfect opportunity to strike- Ed could knock him out, get Al, and get the hell out of there.

But something about the way he fearlessly approached the teenager froze his limbs and smothered all thoughts of acting. He couldn't possible do that unless he had something up his sleeve. He had to know for a fact that his plan wouldn't be completely ruined if Edward decided to attack him. He imagined it was in a similar way to how someone might hesitate to shoot if the enemy steps out onto the battlefield without a weapon of their own, as if they had an invisible shield. It had to be a trap that he would be a fool to walk into. It was too unnatural to be trusted.

Riece stopped right in front of him before he knew it, smiling down at him with Al's head in his hands. "I understand if you wouldn't want your brother to overhear this conversation," he said in a tone that suggested he was trying to comfort him. But sadly, it did anything but.

Edward took a step back, disquieted by his apparent lack of personal space. "Why do you want  _me_ to do this?" He didn't bother to keep the scorn out of his voice as he leered up at the taller man.

At that distance, he was sure that Al was unable to hear what he was saying, which he did feel bad about, but Ed was only engaging such a conversation for his safety.

"My reasons don't concern you," Riece replied swiftly as though he had expected the question. He lightly drummed his fingers on the helmet as he spoke with a seemingly comfortable ease.

"Like hell they don't."

"I have no doubt that you'll learn why I'm doing this in due time. But for now, you'll just have to endure. If you want to secure the safety of your brother, then you will have to do as I say. I want this done tonight, or there's no deal."

"And what exactly happens to Al if there's no deal?" He didn't need to ask; Ed was certain that he already knew the answer, and wasn't entirely sure why he asked in spite of that.

Riece only continued to smile at him. His grin widened slightly, and something daunting and downright frightening flashed in his brown eyes for a moment. The lighting did no favors for his appearance, at it cast shadows over his face that somehow made him to appear slightly less human.

Edward remained just as silent, regrettably understanding what the man was wordlessly telling him. No deal meant no Al. And that could not happen.

Again, he questioned what was stopping him from just punching the man in the jaw where he stood. He knew he had the ability to knock him out, and yet he hesitated.

After it became clear that Edward had nothing to say, Riece held Al's helmet under one arm, reached into his back pocket and slowly pulled something out, keeping a careful eye on the blond. Ed's breath caught in his throat and his limbs went stiff when his gaze fell on the gun that was held non-threateningly in the man's hand. It took a moment for Ed to realize that the weapon was being offered to him.

The gravity of the situation hit him like a truck, nearly throwing him off balance. Not until he saw the gun did he truly realize that he was expected to point it at someone and pull the trigger.

"Do you fully understand what's happening here?" Edward only vaguely heard his voice under the blood pumping in his ears and the nervous static in his brain. "I'll repeat myself just in case we're not on the same page."

Slowly, Riece's expression began to warp, expressing the purely sick joy that this moment game him

"I want you to kill someone."

The man looked down on him, casting a sinister shadow over his figure. His face was shaded by the harsh lights hitting his back, but his amused eyes and his wide grin gleamed victoriously.

Edward held his breath as his eyes hesitantly wavered between the man's daunting visage and the murder weapon held out before him. Gingerly, he placed his flesh hand on the cold material and flinched as an unforgiving shiver ran down his spine. His fingers curled around the grip and loosely held it up before himself. The gun felt unnatural in his hands as Ed was suddenly reminded of just how young he was. He was far too young to hold such a tool in his hands, and far too young to be contemplating the offer that was presented to him.

Alphonse called out to him from the other side of the room; his young, innocent voice swallowed by distress. Edward selfishly blocked his words out, far too ashamed of himself to look his brother in those soulfire eyes.

Instead, his gaze lowered to the ground and the weapon fell to his side. He spoke quietly, not wanting his dear brother to overhear him making a deal with the devil.

"... Alright."

The demeaning way Riece looked down at him stirred a sense of shame that eclipsed all other thoughts, rivaled only by the regret he felt when he transmuted his mother. Edward knew in that moment that because he just agreed to do something so heinous, he would likely never forgive himself. Even if he managed to find another way around this, the very fact that he said yes would follow him forever. He knew that the next couple of days, weeks, months, or maybe even years were going to be affected by his actions on that night.

The kidnapper reached for his shirt pocket this time, and pulled out what appeared to be a small paper cut out, which was then presented to Ed as well. Staring back at him was an older man, probably in his 40s, with dark blond hair that was neatly combed back. He had a finely trimmed beard with hints of gray that portrayed his age. His eyes were a tired, yet assertive shade of pale blue.

"This is Victor Tresler. He's going to be at the Blue Dog Bar on 8th avenue and Arter Road tonight. He always leaves through the back door," he supplied, expecting Edward to take the photo from him. However, he remained still, reluctant to allow the scene to progress any further, yet given no opportunity to stop it.

"There's no need to hesitate," Riece mollified in a sympathetic and almost concerned tone. Edward returned it by glaring daggers at the man. "If anyone is deserving of death, it's Victory Tresler. Perhaps you've heard of him. He's a demon hiding under the guise of a saint. The world sees him as a charitable person, but he secretly has quite the reputation underground." His raised arm lowered to his side once it became clear that Ed wasn't going to touch the picture.

The kid remained silent, refusing to so much as humor Riece with a response. His hands twitched at his sides, wanting nothing more than to punch that man in the jaw. He just wanted to get Al and get out of the warehouse.

"I only know this because I once got the opportunity to work rather closely with him," the older man continued factually. "But just like everyone else who gets too close to him, I ended up suffering because of it."

"So this is for revenge?" The blond snapped, lacing his voice with disgust.

Riece lit up, thoroughly amused. "Revenge? Oh, no, it's nothing like that. I'm not one to hold grudges anyway. This is just something that needs to happen. I don't expect you to understand this, so don't worry about it," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But you must agree that Tresler is of no benefit to humanity. He infects everything he touches. Clearly, society cannot allow him to continuously cause harm everywhere he goes. Therefor, he must be taken care of."

Riece smiled strangely once again, his eyes burning with a barely-contained excitement. "And I've decided that you will be the one to carry it out."

Edward's glare turned into a full-on scowl. Telling him why he was involved in this was the very least the bastard could do, and yet he decided to be as vague as physically possible. The desire to demand answers tugged at him, but he swallowed the words and kept his mouth shut out of fear of accidentally punching the man's lights out. If Al's life wasn't on the line, he would have gladly taken that chance, despite the unsettling feeling that he got from Riece's bold actions.

"The gun you're holding in currently empty," he added suddenly, swiftly changing the topic to cover all his bases. Edward glanced down at the weapon in his hand at his attention was drawn to it. "You'll find bullets waiting for you outside under a rock next to the door. After I hear news of Tresler's death, I'll contact you again about your reward once the dust settles." The tone of his voice would suggest that he was finalizing a business deal instead of instructing a teenager of how and when to commit murder.

"Any questions?"

Ed's mind was in tangles that refused to sort themselves out. Thousands of questions were buzzing in circles, disorienting his vision and causing him to wonder if they would make him go deaf. Seconds passed before he vaguely realized that he was staring intently into space.

"No," he muttered, barely hearing his own voice echo through his head as his heart pounded.

He was under the impression that Riece said something after that, but he didn't catch any of it. But the conversation ended nonetheless, as the man began to step away from him. He kept a careful eye on the kid, before turning his back to him completely to approach Alphonse once more.

Maybe now that he wasn't being watched, he could sneak up on Riece and beat the shit out him before he could somehow stop him. But- but he seemed like a careful man; he wouldn't expose his back to Ed unless he didn't fear what he would do.

What if he just didn't know what Ed could do...?

Edward shook his head fractionally, tossing the idea away. He clearly did his research before appearing in front of Al. No ill prepared person could completely disarm his brother without earning a few busies at the least.

The blond forced himself out of his thought provoked trance and looked across the warehouse to Al once Riece was no longer obscuring his view of him. He subconsciously hid the gun behind his side and plastered on a fake expression of confidence.

"Just you wait, Al; I'll get you out of this somehow."

"Brother... What are you going to do?" He asked just before Riece reached his side of the warehouse again. Alphonse was clearly nervous, but he still believed in his brother unconditionally.

He smiled thinly. "Don't worry; I'll figure it out." He wanted so badly to believe his own words.

* * *

"I was so confused and- and scared," Edward admitted as he subconsciously ran a weary hand through his bangs. Mustang sat quietly besides him, but he was certain that the man wasn't judging him behind his silence. Nor was he simply too tired to speak, based on the thoughtful look that Ed received when he glanced at him in the corner of his eye.

He shifted his weight on the cold wooden flooring and wrapped his one flesh arm around his torso in a meager attempt to fight off the cold, knowing the metal arm would do little to help. Rain continued to barrage against the outside world and the whistles of the powerful wind only served to make him feel colder.

"I think part of me knew what was going to happen, but I ignored it and tried to convince myself that I could figure a way out of it- that I could find some nonexistent third option." The words flowed out with little difficulty, much to his surprise. He had imagine himself retelling the situation before, but never thought it would actually happen, or that it would be as easy as it was. He could only thank Mustang for that.

"I tried looking for another way into the warehouse after I walked out; I was hoping that I could sneak in when Riece's back was turned, then transmute Al's limbs back, but he was apparently prepared for that," he explained dishearteningly as his mind took him back in time to that night.

He clearly remembered looking through a small window into the main room where he just was, watching as Riece simply stood next to Al's motionless body, seemingly holding a conversation with him. Chances were, he wasn't going to move an inch for some time, just in case Ed came back. He considered transmuting the wall closest to the two, and swatting Riece away or pulling Al out of his range, but all it took was the smallest spark of alchemic lighting to warn him that it was coming.

"I knew time was running out. I got nervous and I- I just left." He absently bit on the inside of his mouth, condemning himself once again for leaving Alphonse there.

"Question," Mustang jumped in suddenly before Edward's dark thoughts could grow any louder. He glanced up at him, inviting him to continue. "Did you believe what Riece told you about Tresler? About him being a terrible person?"

"Yeah," Ed sighed. "I know it shouldn't have made any difference; a life is a life either way, but- I think he just told me that to make me more... willing." Edward shook his head at himself. "I was such an idiot- I should have looked into it myself. But I didn't really... have the time."

Something about Mustang's faint nod of the head told him that he didn't even hold that against him.

"What happened to the gun?"

The blond blinked at nothing, then looked up to the tired colonel once again. "You never found it?"

"No. Did you leave it in the alley?"

"I thought so," Edward mused quietly as he turned back to stare out at the dark kitchen. His memory of that night was foggy at best, but figured that starting at the beginning would help the clear it up, as hesitant as he was to mentally return to that alleyway.

But he inwardly told himself that it would be alright. Mustang didn't hate him for his actions, so maybe Al wouldn't either... No, Al wouldn't hate him regardless, even though he had every right. He was too forgiving and kind to his stupid big brother. But that would only make it harder to face him again.

Mustang watched him expectantly, waiting for him to continue the story. But instead of complying, Edward scowled and narrowed is eyes as his memories jumbled together.

"It's hard to remember," he muttered. It wasn't difficult because the memories refused to return to him or because he simply didn't want to remember, but because he had so many vivid nightmares about the incident that merged together.

"As I said, you don't have to get into it tonight," the colonel reminded him with a hint of concern lacing his tired voice.

"No- no, I need to," he trailed off quietly, squeezing his eyes shut as he sorted the pictures in his head. He felt Mustang's heavy gaze on him, but paid no mind to it as his determination to finally tell someone the full truth burned brighter than ever.

* * *

He didn't want to go there. He even convinced himself that he would not go there. But his feet brought him there anyway. Edward stared through the tinted window into the bar before he could fully realize what was happening.

There was no other way to put it; Ed did not know what he was doing. He told himself that he was searching for an alternative route, but he didn't know the first place to look. He briefly humored the idea of telling Tresler about Riece and his goal to have him killed, but that would only increase the chance of getting Al hurt, and a drunk old man wouldn't do him any good anyway.

As soon as Edward thought he caught a glimpse of the man in question through the dirty window, the apprehension that was steadily growing since Al's disappearance skyrocketed monumentally. His head began to throb and he immediately fled into the nearest alley and slid down against the cold brick wall before his balance could give out on him.

"Why the hell is this happening?" he whispered as he dropped his head into his hands.

Since he got the job, he was determined not to kill for the military. Unlike the other soldiers and state alchemists, he never had any intention to fight and take lives. Since the beginning, it had all been for Al- to get his body back. His brother encouraged his refusal to kill, and Mustang at least wasn't trying to order him to do so, so he thought he was fine in that regard.

But now he was being told to murder in order to save Alphonse. How was that fair? How was that equivalent? Why did someone have to die because a single insane man willed it so?

Edward felt a tapping on his shoulders and head, and looked up. Dark clouds had swallowed the night sky and the scent of moisture was strong in the air. Rain drops had begun to gently fall. He pulled his hood over his head, partly to protect himself from the rain, and partly to hide the shame that was surely emanating off of him in waves.

He had lost all track of time, and could have very well been sitting on the ground for an hour or two. Ed was far from making a decision by the time it was made for him.

His head shot up when the sound of laughter hit his ears as a burst of fear shot through his chest and constricted around his lungs. From his spot besides a trashcan, he was protected by the lights that flooded out from the bar as the heavy back door was held open for several seconds. A man stepped into the alley just as a smile fell from his face. His unfocused eyes glazed over the area, sweeping unsuspectingly past Edward.

The photo that Riece had showed him returned to the front of his mind as he compared it with the man who stood a few feet away from him, confirming his identity.

He stared nervously from the shadows for what felt like a long time, but was promptly shaken out of it when Tresler turned towards the main road.

Edward would have preferred to just watch him go, and never see him again. But all he knew in that moment was that if that man left, then Alphonse would surely die because he would have lost the power to stop it. Nothing else mattered when it came to Al, and no amount of morals or convictions could convince him otherwise. He would sooner bloody his own hands and tarnish his name than let anything happen to his brother.

Without a single thought running through his brain besides Al's safety, Ed jumped to his feet as Tresler's back was turned to him. "Hey-" and then immediately regretted it. He only meant to keep him from walking away, but getting into a conversation with the intoxicated man was the last thing he wanted.

Tresler paused, then slowly turned towards him. Before his eyes fell on the kid, Ed's body froze to the spot as part of his head screamed at him to hide.

He stared at Edward for several long seconds as if his groggy mind was trying to figure out what was happening. Ed had no recollection of raising the gun as he nervously returned the stare from the other end of the muzzle. His automail hand was shaking against his control, rattling the weapon, but the increasing rainfall muted the sound.

If he was going to put a bullet in that man's head, he should have done it already. It could have been so simply. He just had to move a single joint; that was all that it took.

"What are you doing?" Tresler eventually asked, watching Ed with a dubiously quirked brow. His voice sounded naturally deep and confident, but was overpowered by the confusion that was undoubtedly spurred on by the alcohol in his system.

The blond blanched at his reaction as the doubt that bubbled within himself began to overflow. His nervous, golden eyes switched between Tresler, then the gun, then back to Tresler. He frantically questioned how anyone could ask a question like that while a gun was pointed at their face. He absolutely did not want to hold a discussion with him, and lacked the voice to do so anyway. He felt as if he should have answered, but he was momentarily certain that a large portion of his brain had completely shut down.

_Just pull the trigger. Do it! For Al, just do it!_

"A little young for an assassin," the older man mused, earning a visible flinch from the teenager. "Or are you trying to rob me?" Tresler's feet shuffled backwards fractionally, as uncertainty and fear began to sober him.

Edward's heart was pounding at his rib cage and an anxious tension ran rampant, twisting his stomach into knots to the point where he was sure he would keel over if it got any worse. His entire body quivered, as if it too was repulsed by what he was doing.

Was this truly equivalent exchange?

His grip on the gun tightened, only to keep himself from dropping it. As much as he would have loved to get rid of the weapon, Ed knew that doing so would mean that he would be putting his brother's life up for forfeit. If there was any other option out there, he didn't have the time to figure it out.

 _Just accept it,_  he ordered himself despondently.  _Accept what you need to do and do it._

As the older man hesitantly stepped away from him and the gun in his metal hand, it dawned on Edward of just how much he loathed himself.

His eyes snapped to attention when Tresler subtly moved his hand suspiciously to his pocket, surely aiming to reach for a weapon of his own.

Edward immediately knew that his own life was now in danger as well. The ingrown human instinct to survive switched on, and in doing so, shut off all thoughts of reason. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was survival. Because if he died, no one would be left to watch out for Alphonse. Al would be alone, trapped in that suit of armor forever. No matter what happened, or how much blood was spilled, that could not happen.

And so he pulled the trigger.

The gunshot hammered his eardrums and rattled his head, piercing effortlessly through the heavy rain that dulled his hearing as it persisted against his hood. For whatever reason, he wasn't prepared for the alarmed gasp that came from the other man, or the recoil that pushed back on his arm and reverberated up to his shoulder. Ed never saw what Victor Tresler was pulling out of his pocket as his eyes shut tightly as soon as the small burst of fire sparked at the end of the muzzle.

His body was stiff with trepidation and he kept his eyes closed for what felt like an eternity. He didn't have the mind to contemplate what had just happened, but he knew to expect blood.

For a reason unknown to him, Edward opened his eyes after what was more realistically two seconds. A sharp inhale forced through his throat when his brain recognized Tresler right on top of him. He caught a glimpse of a bloody tear on his shoulder right before the man vehemently grabbed the weapon with both hands and pulled back to pry it from Ed's grip.

One look in his eyes told Edward all he needed to know to react. It was animalistic instinct in its purest form; the very same desire to survive that surged through him not more than five seconds ago. It was survival of the fittest- kill or be killed. All thoughts of why were thrown to the wind, as it was now far too late to contemplate them.

The kid reeled back, locking his automail hand around the grip of the gun to fight back against the admittedly stronger force. They wrestled over it as the rain poured, impairing their vision, distracting the blond from the fact that his hood had fallen down.

Edward was backed into a brick wall as the air was pushed out his lungs, leaving him winded. Tresler pinned him to the spot with his forearm against Ed's collarbone as he pulled back on the gun with a strength that threatened to disconnect some of his joints. Had he been holding it with a normal hand, it would have slipped out of his grip due to the rain right away.

Everything he knew about the art of self defense flashed through his mind in an instant. From hand to hand combat, to alchemy, to dirty tricks; he considered them all for a fraction of a second.

Leaving it purely to impulsive instincts, Edward forced his eyes open, without realizing that he had closed them, and looked up to his attacker. However, he was met with a pair of pale blue eyes that gleamed with fear- honest, terrified fear that only shined when one's life was truly put at risk.

Ed wasn't entirely sure why, but he froze, consumed by hesitation. The obvious realization should not have stirred such a reaction, because he was doing it for the sake of Al's well-being. Nothing else mattered. But in spite of that, every intention to kill that man vanished, overcome by the guilt of just how wrong it was. Whether it was the very notion of taking another life, or the situation in general, something was terribly wrong.

It didn't make logical sense, and it was a direct juxtaposition to human nature; he couldn't explain it if he tried, and maybe he never would be able to.

Edward's grip on the gun slackened as something close to self awareness overtook him senses. He opened his mouth to speak; maybe he should have told Tresler to stop, that he wasn't going to hurt him, that he was sorry, but somehow couldn't find the words.

The older man failed to realize this change and continued to yank back on the gun in his grip. His right arm was pulled forward again just as he realized his finger was still dangerously close to the trigger. While it was foolish, for a moment, Ed just wanted to let go. He thought that he tried, but the gun remained in his hand. Whether it was because his brain knew it would be suicide to hand the gun over, or because his metal joints got caught on something, he would never know.

The blond mindlessly tried to pull his arm back to release the gun, but his attempt only put weight on the trigger. He didn't realize it was being pulled back until the gun fired and rung in his ears. It was pointed upward, directing the bullet away from either of them, and crashing into something unseen above with a loud clang.

Despite this, Edward gasped and paused again, certain that he had accidentally shot the man. As his mind caught up to reality, Tresler finally succeeded in tearing the gun from his grasp. He immediately took several steps back from the fear of Ed trying to steal it back. However, without the force pressing him up against the walls, his legs buckled beneath him and gave out, allowing his body to collapse to the ground. The realization that he was utterly screwed at that point came too late.

Ed looked up through the rain that fell down his face and pressed his back against the brick wall as the barrel of the gun stared back at him. Tresler looked down at him, breathing heavily, appearing just as soaked and disheveled as Edward felt.

No words were shared. They didn't so much as hold eye contact for more than half a second. It all happened incredibly quickly, but time traveled in slow motion, damaging his already fragile grasp on reality.

It was done in an instant, without thought or consideration. Victor Tresler tightened his finger around the trigger.

Again, he wondered how this could be equivalent exchange.

Edward saw a bright flash at the nozzle of the gun, pointed straight for his head. His mind went blank and once again, the will to survive took over. It had to be pure luck that he raised his arm at just the right moment, in just the right angle. He moved his metal limb over his head in a feeble attempt to protect himself, and felt a violent kick that knocked his arm into his head, and a loud, metal chime sliced through the rain.

He didn't comprehend what had happened and swore he was dying when he felt a thicker liquid mix in with the rainwater that had already drenched him entirely. He waited for the pain to sink in, but he only felt the throb of his newly bruised head and the ache in his automail ports.

Slowly, he hesitantly lowered his arm, catching the red gleam that now covered it, and was stopped by Tresler's gaze. The man stared at him blankly, wide eyed, and nonplussed. His face was strenuous but his body became lax as the gun fell from his grasp and into a puddle by his feet. He was soon to follow, dropping to his knees without any resistance, allowing Edward a clear view of the hole in his chest. He understood instantaneously that the bullet had ricocheted off of his arm.

The pure confusion and disbelief that Edward was targeted with now that they were on the same eye level left him feeling paraplegic and hollow.

The man raised a tremulous hand towards the teenager and he stuttered to speak as the strength drained out of him, and life along with it. His skin had paled faster than Ed thought possible, causing him to look at least ten years older.

The only word he managed to say struck Edward to the core.

"Why?" He asked slowly, in a whisper that would have been lost to the rain had he paid any less attention. As soon as the word escaped his lips, Tresler's balance abandoned him and he fell forward, crashing face-down into a bloodied puddle. His body convulsed pathetically in the rain, until it grew silent and still with his arm still reached out towards the kid.

Edward remained frozen, pressing his back further into the brick as he simply stared. He had grown numb and his brain had completely turned off. He didn't move a muscle until the nausea vengefully sunk in, forcing him to throw a hand up to his mouth.

The blood pooled out in all directions, hastened by the water that had already covered the ground. The swirling red grew closer to the horrified child, and eventually convinced him to scramble to the side with the sole intent of getting as far away as possible.

His breathing had quickened to the point of hyperventilation. Ed looked down at himself and a weak, aghast cry slipped out when he eyed the sheer amount of blood that had covered him. He hadn't realized how much of it there truly was, but it covered his arms, legs, he felt it seeping through his hair and saw how it drained down his automail joints. He had thankfully kept it from coating his face, but that little comfort was easily swallowed by horror.

Had his brain been functioning enough to process thought, he would have been beating himself up over the thought that a man was now dead directly because of him. But in that moment, all he could think about was the blood that covered him, and all he could hear was that confused  _why._

Why, indeed. For a moment, he couldn't remember. He knew it was for Al. Everything was for Al. But then why did he feel so disgusted and horrified? Why did a subdued, self-loathing hatred for himself burn brighter than it had in years?

Ed held his quivering hands out, silently thanking the rain for washing away what it could as he felt an uncomfortable warmth swell in his eyes. But it wasn't enough. The sticky red liquid burned his skin, strengthening the desire to get clean, despite how impossible it now seemed.

With a hand against the frigid wall, he pulled himself to his feet after several seconds of trial and error. His legs were shaking uncontrollably and could just barely hold his weight even with the assistance of the wall.

Edward hastily glanced around the alley, flinching violently when his eyes passed over the body. Besides the main street a few feet away, the light of the lamps was caught by water that feverishly pooled around a drain. The rain was falling faster than it could drain out, and was beginning to overflow into the street.

The hysterical teenager stumbled over to it, and dropped to his knees by the edge of the sidewalk and rinsed his hands off in the collecting water, staining it red. The water did what it could do wash away the evidence of his mistakes with the little time that fate allowed.

After what had to have been several minutes, Edward's breathing went from ragged and suffocating, to slightly bearable. Before his mind could have time to catch up with him, the sound of voices broke through the haze, drawing his attention away from himself. He looked up just as the bar's front door was pushed open and several figures stepped out. Right away, Ed figured they were responding to the gunfire, and the impulse to hide overpowered all else.

Without giving the matter another thought, the kid shoved himself to his feet and ran aimlessly down the street in the opposite direction.

* * *

"Ed, it's alright; snap out of it," Roy urged as he watched the teenager beside him carefully.

At some point during the retelling of the story, Edward had begun to stutter and trip over his own words, making it rather difficult for the weary colonel to keep up. Near the end of the climax, his breathing quickened to an unhealthy rate, and it took him at least a few minutes to finally shake the kid back into the present.

Edward started as if he forgot Roy was sitting besides him and blinked at him for a moment. "... What?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." The blond turned away and shook his head. "Yeah," he breathed again in a tone that should only be used by people three times his age.

"I kept running a-and I eventually ended up at the warehouse again," Ed continued, finally slowing down after going through the last scene at an almost incomprehensible speed. "Al wasn't there when I got back."

His voice became lifeless and he took another deep breath, closing his eyes as he hugged his legs.

Roy was speechless when Ed seemed to have finally finished. There was a hint of discomfort radiating around the blond, as if he had more to add but had already closed the book.

If he had learned anything in the past hour, it was that Roy was an ignorant, blind fool. Then again, perhaps he had already known that, but this had only solidified it.

He was incapable of even marginally understanding what Edward had gone through until he heard the entire thing, but still couldn't fight back the disdain that formed from the thought. While it was true that most of the people he was regularly acquainted with had the ability to shoot someone in an alley and walk out in a much better state than Edward had, no fifteen year old boy should ever be expected to be capable of such things; regardless of his military status.

None of this should have happened while Edward was under his command. The very fact that it did only meant that he had failed as a superior officer, and it was now his responsibility to make up for it however possible.

If he re-lived that experience every night, at least he now understood just why Ed feared sleep to the point of depraving himself of it.

Roy might not have caught everything that was said, but one observation quickly became his top priority to sort out as soon as it came to light: based off of what he heard, he dared to say it sounded like Ed had not actually murdered Tresler. The kid clearly wouldn't agree, judging by how guilt-ridden he was, but it was worth bringing up.

"Let me get something straight," Roy began as he suppressed another yawn. "You were blackmailed into killing someone, but then that person pointed a gun at you and accidentally killed himself when you tried to defend yourself."

Ultimately, Tresler only died because he tried to kill Ed. Should this ever be brought to court, god forbid, he was beginning to think it was possible to spin the story in their favor while staying true to the facts. Surely even hardened military veterans at a court martial wouldn't want to see a child get prosecuted for murder.

However, Roy's growing optimism was delayed when Edward shot him a withering glare. "I know how it sounds, but saying that I didn't actually kill him because of that just sounds like a- a loophole."

"What's wrong with loopholes?" he asked, earning himself a stronger glare.

"It doesn't feel right," Ed sighed as he looked away. "What right do I have to say that I'm innocent when Tresler is only dead because I approached him that night?"

"As far as I'm concerned, you're just as much of a victim as Tresler. Besides, you said so yourself that you tried to back out."

"Yeah, but I- I shouldn't have," Edward muttered under his breath, almost inaudibly. The shame in his voice was almost tangible. "I only went there in the first place for Al, but in the end, I couldn't e- even do it for him." He forced the words out through his teeth as if each syllable required a tremendous amount of effort.

"He wouldn't have wanted you to."

"I know that!" Edward shot back quickly and buried his head in his hands with an exasperated and weary sigh. His shoulders shuddered slightly as he exhaled. "That just makes it worse."

"Listen to me, Ed," Roy started and placed a hand on his shoulder. The kid fidgeted from the touch, but did not look up at him. "You're not being fair to yourself. None of this is your fault."

"Then why does it feel like it  _is_  my fault?"

To that, Roy did not have an answer to. Not yet, anyway. He could only sigh and give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"It will get better." He wasn't saying that just to make him feel better, but because he truly believed it. Edward looked at him silently for a moment longer, hopefully understanding his meaning. "You only did what you thought you had to. No one can blame you for that." And he would be sure to instill regret into whoever had the gall to try.

"Then what would you do? Would you claim innocents for something you felt guilty for, even if no one agreed with you?" Edward asked and kept his gaze with a flicker of a challenge in his golden eyes.

Such a serious question wasn't quite what he had expected, and Roy found that he was truly considering it, until he remembered that he had already faced the same dilemma before.

"Come on, Ed; you already know the answer to that," he replied with a wry smile. "I'll likely never forgive myself for the part I took in the war, nor would I ever want anyone else to. To answer your question, no, I wouldn't pretend like I was innocent in that case. But I've come to accept that I won't do any good for this country behind bars, and neither will you."

Yes, they're situations were very different, but he wasn't going to take back what he said simply because of that.

Edward looked forward in an forlorn silence, clearly not convinced but seeming to at least take his words to heart. Roy had no right to ask for anything more. He knew how difficult it would be for Ed to accept what had happened and move on from it, and he knew it would take time. There was nothing else he could do for the kid, besides do his part to help him through it.

Roy pulled Ed into a side hug with his with his arm over his shoulders, only now realizing just how cold the boy was. The automail certainly didn't help as he was suddenly very glad that he was wearing a long sleeved shirt.

Besides an involuntary flinch from surprise, Edward didn't react. But knowing him, that was likely the best reaction he could have hoped for.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you're an idiot," Roy said lightly.

"I know."

"But not for doing what you did- you were forced into a corner and had no other choice. You're an idiot because you didn't tell me sooner."

"... I know." Ed's response tugged a small smile onto Roy's expression. The kid yawned and leaned further into the embrace, but upon closer inspection, the colonel discovered that he was beginning to doze off.

"Is there anything else you wanted to add?" he asked, recalling the hesitation in Ed's voice earlier.

He didn't respond for several seconds, from either contemplation, or because his brain was slowing down for the night. "Oh, yeah, I-" he yawned again. "The warehouse was empty when I got back. Found tire tracks outside, but lost them in the rain. Searched until dawn."

Edward closed his eyes as he spoke as he possibly forgot that Roy wasn't a pillow as he curled into the warmth and continued speaking slowly. " Then I remembered that someone would have found the body, so I stopped into a bank and got a room at an inn. Did'n leave for three days, I think... N' I transmuted the dent out of my arm... And th'n..."

The kid slurred over his words until he stopped talking altogether. For what seemed to be the first time in the past few hours, his breaths finally slowed into a steady, rhythmic beat that was devoid of any signs of worry or fear.

 _And then the rest is history,_  Roy finished in his head. Three days after the body was found, he first saw Edward at that corner cafe, chased him down the street, and knew the rest of the tale from there.

But for the first time since this fiasco began, he felt certain that things would truly begin to ameliorate.

He remained where he was seated, even after he was sure that Ed had truly fallen asleep. He wasn't in any rush, since he had already sacrificed all chances of getting more sleep the moment the kid started talking. The rest of the day would surely be hell for the colonel, but if he were to do it all over again, nothing would change.

Edward falling asleep against his side was a clear sign that a heavy weight had been lifted off of him. Roy feared what could have happened had the burden remained any longer. And he too felt lighter, knowing that Ed was finally able to confide in him without fear.

With their burdens starting to subside at last, even the rain was beginning to light up.


	17. Chapter 17

The rain had stopped it's bombardment by the time Roy carried Edward back to his room. After prying his surprisingly strong grip from the fabric of his shirt, he still had time for a two hour power nap before he had to get up again for work.

Knowing that the longer he slept, the harder it would be to get up, Roy set the alarm for earlier than usual so he could give himself time to make a cup of coffee and a decent breakfast. He had even managed to get out the door with time to spare after checking on Edward one last time to ensure that he wouldn't wake up from a nightmare-induced panic attack.

After locking the front door behind him, Roy took a moment to consider the weather through the pale clouds of mist that took shape with every breath. A thin layer of gray coated the sky as it often did, but showed no indication of raining anytime soon. The raw winter breeze was still thick with moisture from the earlier storm and was surely nearing the freezing point, if it hadn't already. The colonel hoped in vain that the clouds would just stop dropping gallons of water for a few days at least. He asked so little, but his luck with such matters was never in his favor.

With a withering sigh, he moved forward and switched his focus to the current situation instead, figuring it would be a better use of his energy than to inwardly beg for good weather. His brain was slow to cooperate, as the most recent events muddled his thoughts.

Roy considered last night- or rather, that morning- to be incredibly draining to say the absolute least. While the combination of the lack of restful sleep and caffeine helped him to feel relatively aware as he marched up the damp steps of Central Command, a strained weariness accompanied it. It stung his eyes with every blink and poked his head subtly enough so that he couldn't quite call it a headache, but he fully expected it to reach beyond that point in due time.

But all things considered, it could have been worse. Roy had pulled all-nighters multiple times in the past for a plethora of reasons and would continue to do so in the future. His suffering was nothing in comparison to the psychical and mental torment that Ed had endured because of his sleep deprivation, so Roy wasn't about to start complaining.

Not out loud, anyway.

Before reaching his office, he took a detour to the archive room and swiftly picked up the files that he had been looking at for the past few days. He had grown sick and tired of making no progress with finding Riece, and wasn't about to waste any more time.

By the time he shrugged into his office and pulled off his coat, he was still a few minutes early and only Hawkeye had arrived before him, as per usual.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Roy greeted by habit as he crossed the room and dropped the folders onto the large desk, then sardonically wondered what was really so good about it. Not including his productive conversation with Edward, of course; that didn't count.

"Good morning, sir," she replied automatically as she sorted the items on her own desk. Once she looked over her space and deemed it satisfactory, she turned to study him for a moment. Hawkeye was undoubtedly surprised by his early arrival and was quietly seeking the reason behind it.

Roy kept his head downcast as he mindlessly organized his own papers, but glanced up at her once the weight of her gaze became too much to bear.

"You're here early," she observed with the wordless inquiry clear in her tone.

Roy smiled thinly and dropped his eyes down to the surface of his desk. "You sound surprised. I'm always prompt," he informed but could almost immediately sense that the blonde was unimpressed. He let the dry humor evaporate with a sigh. "Wasn't able to sleep much last night."

It was a cheap trick that only revealed half of the truth, but at the same time, it was the most accurate response that came to mind.

"I see," she replied tersely.

After knowing her for so many years, seeing that she wasn't completely satisfied with the answer was an easy task for Roy. He would have enjoyed hearing her suspicions as to what was keeping him busy lately, since he was certain that she knew it heavily included Fullmetal. Perhaps Hawkeye thought they were meeting up in shady locations to swap information. No one would guess that the kid had actually been occupying his guest room for so long without any house fires being reported.

Except for Douglas, Roy reminded himself sourly, but he clearly didn't know the nature of his and Ed's relationship well enough. Anyone who had seen them fight like cats and dogs would naturally come to the conclusion that the two of them spending any prolonged amount of time in the same room only ever led to disaster.

Regardless, perhaps that was a conversation for another time. At the moment, Roy had work to do.

With that in mind, the colonel made a sudden decision and picked up the folders that he had just set down and approached the door to his inner office.

"I don't want any interruptions."

"Sir," Hawkeye replied in a way that suggested she had something to say, instead of just acknowledging his order. Roy paused in the door frame and glanced back at the lieutenant, idly wondering how he was able to hear the difference in the back of his head.

"Would you like some coffee," she asked only to inform him that she would be interrupting him in a few minutes.

Roy smiled wearily and nodded. Even Hawkeye knew that one mug of caffeine that morning wasn't going to be enough, and he had no interest in arguing with her.

He closed the door behind himself just as Falman arrived for the day, and dropped the documents onto his second desk as he heard the lieutenant leaving the outer office. As he settled into his chair, he silently thanked fate or God or the universe or whatever that she was a part of his life, then swiftly opened the crisp manila folders.

Roy swept his eyes over the monochromatic photos of each suspect that were paper-clipped to their corresponding files and skimmed over the information as he had done multiple times already. He felt only resentment for each of them.

There was no guarantee that the Riece they were searching for has had any dealings with the military before. He could have been completely wasting his time by focusing primarily on the records before him, but there was simply no other method to search at the moment; besides running around town and hoping to get lucky, of course, but Ed had already proven that not to be the best of ideas. The colonel was truly grasping for straws at that point.

If only he had better resources and was able to alert the whole country to this matter, and thus distract them from looking for the kid who he was trying to protect. If he at least had more people working on this, then it would certainly lighten the load.

Again, he wondered what was stopping him from telling the team about his search for Riece.

Oh right; the promise.

It was foolish of him to hold onto a flimsy promise so tightly when so much was on the line. Roy was well aware of that, and knew how simple it would be to just inform his staff about a new target. They wouldn't ask questions if he ordered them not to. There was nothing to fear. And yet, something stopped him. Something took control of his brain and wouldn't allow him to continue that train of thought.

Roy hadn't thought too much of it when he first promised Fullmetal that he wouldn't say a word about his situation to anyone- he was just trying to rekindle the dying trust. Judging by his confession the night before, he could say with confidence that he had succeeded in doing that.

The colonel decided that he would talk to Ed about that promise later that night. Assuming all went well, he could have the entire team working together to pull that monster out of hiding. And he knew without a doubt that Maes would jump at the chance to help the moment he brought it up, which would make more classified information available to him. If they all knew this was about Fullmetal, all six of them would even be willing to come into work on the weekend.

Hopefully, Roy would only have to wait one more day.

But on the other hand, simply relaying the information he had on Riece to them wouldn't necessarily be telling them anything about Ed. Would he be willing to twist the situation like that? But it was for Edward's sake. After everything, the kid probably wouldn't mind as long as it would get them closer to finding Alphonse.

But again, what was one more day?

The colonel shook his head indecisively and immediately regretted it when the sudden movement jarred the growing headache. He would clear it all up with the kid that night, and would just focus on what was in front of him until then.

Roy opened a drawer and pulled out a large map of the city and spread it out across his desk, then set the files back on top of it. The general locations of the four suspects had been pinned on the map earlier, among the several sightings of the Fullmetal Alchemist that had been reported for the past few weeks. He didn't particularly need to know where the four were, as all of that information was written in their files, but he figured looking at the picture would somehow help him to think.

He was halfheartedly flipping through the papers when another thought hit him in the head: he wasn't allowed much time to consider it before, but Riece clearly wanted Roy dead. Mollifying an unstable Edward nearly caused him to forget about the event that had caused that entire conversation to begin with.

If Riece was using Al to get Roy killed, then he must have had some kind of unknown history with the man. He supposed it was possible that he was just trying to ruin Ed's life in every way possible, which just so happened to include the colonel, but that seemed unlikely. Roy was much more susceptible to making enemies than the kid was.

While lazily twirling a pen between his fingers, Roy took a moment to list the number of people who wanted him dead and would use Ed and Al in order to make it happen, but after several long seconds of mulling it over, he came up with surprisingly little. Most of is enemies were criminals who were already in prison or dead, or other officers in the military, who wouldn't dare to approach Fullmetal in such a way- not when he could potentially recognize any one of them with ease.

Maybe the person Ed knew as Riece was hired by someone else? But there were so many easier ways to get to him...

A muffled clamor was heard on the other side of the door, which Roy quickly brushed off as his staff being as loud and vivacious as always. Perhaps Hawkeye had returned with his coffee and was chewing them out.

However, he was quickly proven wrong when his door opened, revealing one Maes Hughes who approached the desk unapologetically.

A tired, irritated groan died in his throat at the sight of his best friend. Roy was in no mood for guests and would have snapped at the man to go away before he had the chance to drown him in family photos, but the sober expression on his face suggested that he was here for a reason, other than to annoy him.

"What is it?" he asked without so much as a hello.

"Good morning to you too," Maes replied with an unfazed smile. When Roy didn't say anything against his sarcasm, a hint of empathy mixed into the man's visage. "Are you alright, Roy? You're not looking too great."

He leaned back in his chair and squeezed the bridge of his nose, lacking the energy to put up a facade for the lieutenant colonel.

"Just tired," he sighed and looked at his friend expectantly, wordlessly urging him to get on with it.

Maes watched him carefully for another moment, then slipped back into his cheery exterior. Roy somehow got the impression that the man had just made some kind of decision, and was almost frightened to wonder what it was.

"If you say so," he shrugged. "But anyway, have you heard about the most recent sighting of Ed?"

Roy's eyes shot up to Hughes at the mention of his subordinate, suddenly feeling much more alert. "Which one?"

"On Wednesday night, there were several reports of him being seen in a restaurant."

"Wednesday?" he echoed bemusedly. That was the same night Edward apparently ran into Riece. He must have been lured into a restaurant for whatever reason, but why didn't he see anything about the sighting yesterday? Something like that should have appeared on his desk as soon as it happened. "I didn't hear anything about that."

"Thought so," Maes said with a small frown. "I sent the report to your office, but it was apparently redirected."

"How was it redi-" Roy paused as the answer struck him. "Douglas," he growled and tightened his fist around the pen that he hadn't noticed was still in his grip. "He must be trying to get to all of the new information before me."

Only after Douglas had sucked the report dry for what it was worth, would he allow Roy to pick up the crumbs that remained. Little did that bastard know that he already knew why Edward was there, who he was talking to, and where he currently was. At the end of the day, he was still in the lead, but that did not excuse the other colonel for his conniving actions.

"Not getting along with your new friend?" Maes asked with a sympathetic, yet shamelessly amused tone, earning himself a glare from Roy. The lieutenant responsible colonel was very well aware that he was none too happy about being forced into sharing command over the case.

"He is not my friend," Roy announced and folded his arms over his chest. "Colonel Douglas is nothing but another obstacle."

Hughes flashed him a knowing smile. "Just make sure you don't trip over this obstacle."

The colonel watched him carefully for a moment, then sighed and waved a wand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah," he breathed, as if speaking to an overbearing parent.

Even through the fog of his growing headache and thinning tolerance, it was easy to see that Hughes was still backing him up however he could. And here he was, returning the favor with silence.

Roy wasn't quite sure how his brain suddenly became so decisive, but something flipped and he knew that he couldn't carry on as he has been. If he was going to progress, then he needed to change tactics and prioritize more efficiently.

His friend chuckled quietly for a moment, then clicked his tongue. "Well, I guess I'll get back t-"

"Maes."

The man blinked at him in mild surprise and _hmm_ ed curiously.

Roy unfolded his arms and lightly drummed the arm of his chair as he quietly debated with himself. Before he could quite come to a decision, he looked back up at Hughes and spoke.

"Before you go, take a look at these files." Maes quirked an eyebrow at him, but walked around his desk to get a better look nonetheless. "Do any of these names mean anything to you?"

He absentmindedly scratched his chin in thought as he scanned the four files, all while Roy watched him in the corner of his eye.

"I take it you're looking for someone named Riece," he observed as the matching names stuck out. Before Roy could consider replying to the rhetorical comment, he continued more seriously. "None of these really stick out to me- except maybe this one," Hughes added uncertainly as he pointed to the file of an ex-police officer named Alexander Riece.

Maes straightened up and casually folded his arms. "Why are you only looking at these four?"

"Everyone else with that name in our records is either in prison, or is too... unlikely." That, and there weren't that many to begin with.

His friend stared intently into space for a long moment as he tapped his foot. After a moment, his arms fell to his sides and he faced the seated colonel. "I'm going to look into something that might be promising. I'll let you know if I find anything."

He agreed as Hughes made his leave to the door. After he stepped into the door frame, he rose a hand in an amiable farewell. "See you later, Roy!" With that said, he disappeared behind the door.

Just as he expected, Maes agreed to cooperate without needing to ask any difficult questions. Not that he really had to, since Roy was fairly certain that he was perceptive enough to piece a good portion of the situation together, despite how little information he had. Doing so was his job, after all.

The alchemist propped his elbows on the edges of the large map and rested his head in his palm as he glazed over the words in front of him. He focused on the name that Hughes pointed at as if the paper would grow a mouth and tell him the truth. Without putting much thought into it, her grabbed a pencil and lightly circled the name on the file.

Alexander Riece was discharged from the military police eight months ago. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that the man worked in East City one year prior, before getting promoted and relocated. There seemed to be no connection between the ex-officer and Roy or Ed.

Before Roy also moved to Central, he knew about nearly everything that happened in the east, but it was always possible that something had escaped his notice.

There was no longer any time to connect every piece; he had to take a more direct approach while he had the chance. Perhaps he could just casually visit these suspects and see if Ed recognized them; of course, that would involve getting the kid out of the house and into the public.

He could just take the files to his home and show Fullmetal the photos, but some of them were rather outdated. But the file for Alenxander Riece was recently updated, however. And since that one seemed to be his best bet at the moment, he supposed it was worth a shot.

Roy exhaled wearily and closed his eyes as he tried to shrug off a wave of irritation. Why did it feel like he was completely wasting his time and effort? Probably because he was, but there was nothing else he could do at the moment, besides wait for a new development. At that point, he had more hope in whatever Hughes was looking into, than the information that sat uselessly on his desk.

A light knock on the door interpreted his musing. He looked up just as Hawkeye walked in with a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, and a daunting stack of paperwork in the other.

"These just came in for you, sir," she informed him as she set the coffee down, followed by the stack of hellish paper with slightly less care. She divided it into two individual piles and pointed to the smaller one. "These are due by the end of the day."

Roy glared at what had to be several hundred papers with a rueful spark in his dark eyes. "I don't have time for this," he grumbled under his breath and immediately went for the inviting cup of coffee.

"Also, Colonel Douglas wants to speak with you."

Roy's head snapped up in attention. "He's already here?" She nodded. "Tell him I'm in a meeting."

The blonde opened her mouth to respond, but paused when he glanced past her towards the door and steeled his expression. Douglas had invited himself in, ignoring the confused expressions of Roy's subordinates in the outer office. He stepped up to his desk with his hands clasped behind his back just as Roy stood from his seat. He had no desire to allow that man to look down on him in his own office.

Despite her resolute expression, Roy could determine Hawkeye's disapproval by the most minute twitch. Clearly, she had asked the other colonel to wait a moment; a request that was so blatantly ignored.

"Hello Colonel Mustang. I apologize for intruding without warning, but I thought it best to stop by before you became too busy," he said in a stiff, formal tone that somehow increased Roy's already fuming annoyance.

"I see." He set the cup of coffee down at the edge of the desk before he managed to take a single sip.

Catching the hint as efficiently as always, Hawkeye showed herself out and closed the office door behind her, leaving the two colonels alone once more.

Douglas translated his terse response as in invitation to get on with the point. He brought forth a folder from behind his back and pulled out a thin packet of papers from within, which he presented to the alchemist.

"I couldn't fathom how it happened, but I heard you haven't received a copy of this report." Roy wordlessly took the collection of papers from him. One look at the front page proved that it was regarding the latest sighting of the Fullmetal Alchemist; the very same file that was miraculously redirected away from his desk.

He cynically wondered what exactly the other colonel was trying to accomplish. Did he do all of this just to appear as if he actually _wanted_ them both to be on the same page? Or was this all some twisted show of superiority, as if he was taunting Roy with his apparent control and power to do whatever the hell he wanted?

Was that why Douglas decided to take the trip to his office himself instead of sending someone else? Was he trying to save a subordinate from incurring Roy's wrath, or was he trying to portray himself as some sort of good natured saint?

But regardless, he was certain that Douglas had already spent all of yesterday questioning every witness at the restaurant, and digging up as much information as he could before allowing him to catch wind of it.

Countless questions spiraled in Roy's overworked brain, leaving very little answers in their wake. Not that he expected much, knowing how his own uncooperative mind liked to torment him at times like this.

Roy drew his eyes away from the papers and back up at the other colonel, causing a subtle, yet panicked alarm to ring in his head. Because just as he did so, Douglas' focus was pointed down at the desk, eyeing the several files that had been abandoned there. His attention snapped away from it just as he felt the weight of Roy's stare, but it was far too late to hide the fact.

He just narrowly stopped himself from abruptly clearing his throat as the knowledge that he had to distract the man attempted to cloud his judgment.

"I've been meaning to bring this up to you anyway," Roy stated as he gestured to the papers in his hand.

Douglas only watched him with a mild curiosity, his hardened expression giving nothing away.

"It has come to my attention that this report has been purposefully _redirected_ away from my desk, and onto yours," he accused as a quieter part of his mind knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to be so brusque. No one in their right mind would actually confess to such an accusation anyway. However, he was finding it increasingly difficult to give a damn. "I don't suppose you had anything to do with that," he continued in a tone that sounded very little like an actual question, but rather a demand.

Douglas stared at him quietly for a moment longer than usual. Roy took it as a sign that he had successfully surprised the stoic man, despite his emotionless expression.

"I believe I have already answered that question," he replied slowly.

 _Yes, you couldn't possible fathom how it happened_ , Roy mocked inwardly, refusing to believe a word of it. Then again, it probably wasn't a great idea to encourage the tension between them- that they all pretended to ignore- with an argument.

He watched Douglas squarely for a moment, deciding to switch his efforts into getting the man out of his office.

"I suppose so," he relented, willing the words to sound not quite as strained and forced as they felt. It was a silent invitation to end the conversation and get the hell out.

However, the other colonel did not get the hint, for whatever reason. Or if he had, he decided to ignore it.

"This isn't the first time that you have questioned my motives," he began with something akin to anger in his heavy blue eyes. "I would say that I only wish to close this case as quickly as you do, but I also can't help but question _your_ motives."

Roy quirked an eyebrow at the statement, but went along with it as he once again adopted an indifferent outlook.

"I thought I made this quite clear: I want to find Fullmetal because as my subordinate, his actions are my responsibility." Douglas still didn't look quite convinced, so he persisted. "I'm not going to risk my job on his behalf, if that's what you think. At the end of the day, he's just some kid," he finished spitefully as he mentally denied every word that left his mouth.

The opposing colonel narrowed his eyes, and something particular sparked behind his glasses. His arms fell from behind his back and he took a step closer to the desk. For just a moment, he was no longer the stiff board that he always appeared to be. "If he's just a kid, then why-" his words were cut off when he scathingly raised an arm for emphasis, only for it to collide into the cup of coffee that rested on the edge of the desk.

The brown liquid spilled onto the desk's corner and streamed down the side of the desk like a waterfall, pooling on the wooden floor. Roy's composure faulted for a moment as he instinctively stepped back to spare his uniform from stains. For a brief moment, his attention drifted from Douglas, clouded by his concern for the contents on his desk.

Douglas at least had the decency to react quickly and shift some of the many papers on the desk to the side, away from the hazard. However, Roy's map of the city was not as fortunate. He sacrificed a moment to shift its position on the desk as the coffee already began to seep through the material like a spreading wildfire, ruining the west side of town.

With his focus divided, he vaguely noticed a flash of movement in the corner of his eye, and glanced up at the other officer just as his arms were drawing back from the desk. He thought nothing of it, and straightened up as his determination to hide his sour mood was quickly slipping away.

"As pleasant as this was, I have to clean this up," he said slowly with an evident warning behind his cold tone.

"Of course," Douglas replied rigidly and stepped away from the desk with his arms straight down at his sides. "I apologize for the mess, Colonel. Perhaps we can finish this conversation later." He spoke with his usual brand of unreadable indifference, but there was something else under his voice, that Roy almost wanted to call satisfaction.

He mentally insulted the man as he made his exit, leaving Roy with his seething thoughts and a pool of coffee for company.

With a huff, he closed the files that had been graciously pushed to the side, and stacked them into the opposite corner of his desk, deciding that he was in no mood to make any headway on that matter. He might as well bring them back home and see if Ed had anything to say about them.

For now, he forced himself to focus on cleaning his desk, then planned to null his irritation by diving into the fatiguing paperwork that awaited him.

* * *

Roy hurried into his home and pressed the door closed with his back, trapping the cold winds outside that whispered of an impending snowfall. He took a deep breath to welcome the familiar scent of his own home, then exhaled slowly with his eyes closed, reveling in the warmth that surrounded him.

After a moment of short-lived bliss, he pushed himself forward and immediately dropped an armful of assorted papers and folders onto the coffee table. He intended to go up to his room and change into something more comfortable, but somehow ended up sitting on the couch. Then before he knew what was happening, he had shifted to lay down with his legs stretched over the arm rest, knowing that all hopes of making it to the second floor had completely vanished.

Usually after missing a nights' rest, he would not have felt as incredibly dead to the world as he currently did. It was never easy to keep his eyes open when his body craved sleep, but doing so was always a task he was quite capable of. However, the stress and tension of the past few weeks had been piling up, and all decided to come crashing down on him at once. The lack of sleep was only the tremor that caused it.

Roy's body had decided to shut down without his consent, allowing a powerful wave of exhaustion and fatigue to literally knock him off his feet. For the most part, he was completely okay with that. But there was one nagging concern that kept him from effortlessly falling into a deep state of unconsciousness. It took a brief moment to remind himself of what it was, but when he did, he pried his eyes open and glanced to the staircase.

He had hoped to hear his subordinate's uneven footsteps coming down to greet him, but of course, that was too much to expect from the kid. Having accepted that, Roy took a deep breath.

"FULLMETAL!"

His voice echoed through the house, followed by silence for several seconds. After a hesitant moment, the door across the coffee table that led into the study cracked open. Edward leered around the corner at him.

"Whatever it is, I didn't do it," the blond defended himself carefully.

"Come here," Roy said as his words nearly slurred together but lacked the energy to correct it.

Ed stared at him suspiciously for a moment longer, before reluctantly leaving the study. While Roy wanted nothing more than to remain laying down, he forced himself back into a sitting position, leaned forward to the coffee table, and started pulling out the specific files. The rest of the pile was paperwork that he was required to have completed by Monday. By the time Edward stopped on the other side of the table, he slid the four chosen folders towards him and leaned back again while he willed his brain to formulate a few sentences.

"These are some of the suspects I've been looking at. Tell me if any of them look like Riece." His heavy eyelids had fallen again, but he heard the teenager shuffling through the papers. By the time it occurred to him to watch the kid for reactions, Edward had already closed the folders and set three of them back down and was flipping through the last.

"Where's the picture for this one?" he asked as he pulled the file away from his face to scan the ground in case it had fallen out.

"Should be right on top," he answered, earning a shrug from the teenager. Roy held out a hand, in which Ed returned the folder to him. He quickly scanned its contents, confirming what Fullmetal had said was true: the picture for Alexander Riece was gone.

While he didn't quite have the energy to worry about the missing photo as much as he should have, he was able to understand how much of an annoying inconvenience it was. As he dropped the useless folder onto the table, Roy dug through his mind to any instance where something could have happened to it.

He wasn't left with much time to actually study the files today, so therefor, they were all left closed for the majority of the time ever since Hawkeye came in with two tons worth of work. Douglas came in afterwards, but Roy surely would have noticed if he somehow decided to steal it, for whatever reason.

He supposed the loosely paperclipped picture could have slipped out in transit- he should have already known not to underestimate his infamously bad luck. It was possible that it was currently sitting on the floor of his office, but checking sounded like it required too much effort at the moment, and the odds were never in his favor.

The colonel absently rubbed his eyes, as if that alone had the power to dismiss his rampant headache.

"I take it the other three weren't promising?"

"No," Ed replied with a shake of his head, unbeknownst to the older man. "They all look similar, but the biggest differences are in the eyes and chin."

Roy made a a faint grunt of acknowledgment and lowers his hand to his side and studied Edward for a moment, who was watching him with the slightest hint of concern. In the past, he would have assumed he was imagining it, but after living with the kid for two weeks, he had become more skilled at picking it out, even when disabled by his tired mind.

He straightened his back and crafted his expression into something slightly focused, as he had no desire to guilt the blond with his sorry state. "It seems that there's nothing else to do but have you confirm his identity in person." It was possible to retrieve another copy of the photo, but it would take time that Ed would certainly not be willing to waste, especially since the weekend was just beginning.

Besides noticeably blanching, Edward didn't react in any way for several seconds. "In person?" he echoed almost too quietly for Roy to hear. "But what are the chances that he's still at this address?"

"If he's not, then we have more reason to believe that Alexander Riece is the person we're looking for." And if someone did end up opening the door, then they would know if they were just wasting their time or not. Either way, it would be productive.

Edward breathed slowly through his nose, reigning in whatever apprehensive thoughts swirled in his head. He looked up at Roy with a stern determination in his eyes, despite the anxiety that it eclipsed. "Alright. Let's go tomorrow."

The colonel chuckled hollowly at Ed's eagerness to get it over and done with. He figured the kid wouldn't wait longer than necessary, and wasn't about to make him.

"Then it's decided," he agreed and leaned back into the couch and began to wonder if he was ever going to make it to his bed.

It was proving to be quite difficult to keep his thoughts from straying for long, as his mind continued to be whisked away by the tantalizing thought of sleep. Even his eyes were aching; the dim, light brown lights of his living room were somehow strong enough to sting.

"Hey," Ed started as he absentminded worried the hem of his shirt. "You okay?"

Roy blinked up at the blond, mildly surprised by the guilt that was evident in his posture and visage. Causing Edward to regret staying up until the ungodly hours of the night was the last thing he wanted, despite how drained it had made him. That conversation was an important stepping stone, and he wouldn't give it up for anything- he couldn't let Ed think any different.

"Long day," he replied with a thin smile. At least it wasn't a lie.

Edward didn't respond, as if he was unsure whether or not he could believe him.

* * *

The dull, rhythmic drops of an old ruptured pipe echoed throughout the small room, bouncing off the brick walls one after another, endlessly. The gentle, steady beat would lull Alphonse into a trance-like state, only to be interrupted whenever a rat would scurry past his immobile body, claws scraping across the concrete ground and offending the musical flow of water drops.

The interminable loop that he had been chained to dulled his sense of time and saturated the world around him. Not only was he constantly itching to move and get a change in scenery, but he was bored- inconceivably bored.

Only Riece's frequent visits to the basement ensured Alphonse that he had not been sitting underground for months. He once had a relatively good grasp on how many days had passed since his capture, but it eventually became clear to him that Riece did not come down to talk to him every day. In fact, there was no pattern to it at all. Some days, he would visit the young alchemist multiple times, only to be followed by a long, immeasurable gap that could have stretched on for a week, for all he knew.

Al had recently fallen under the impression that his kidnapper was running out of questions for him. Most of his visits felt more like what he imagined a therapy session to be like, except with an extra layer of unease. But lately, he had often come down with the sole intention of bragging, it seemed like. Riece would occasionally take the time to explain to Al what trials Ed had been enduring lately, sometimes in great detail, reveling in the younger Elric's inability to stop him.

But Alphonse wouldn't allow himself to be so easily upset by the man; he had no reason to believe any of his words, due to both his lying streak, and because he didn't see how it was possible for Riece to know as much as he let on. From what he had observed of the older man thus far, it was all too possible for him to simply be making things up just to torment him.

He didn't want to believe Riece when he said Ed had been in hiding from the world in shame since the body had been found, or that the entire nation was looking for him.

He didn't even want to listen when he said his brother has been drowning in his own guilt, slowly deteriorating as the weight became too much to bare.

Worst of all, he didn't know what to think when he learned Edward was given a 'new target,' as Riece had put it. Even after Ed had _allegedly_ killed one person (which Al still refused to accept), that monster was now trying to get Al to be believe he was going to do it again.

Of course Brother wouldn't do it. He wouldn't have even done it the first time.

It was impossible.

Especially since this new target was apparently Colonel Roy Mustang.

While those two were constantly at each others throats, Alphonse knew that none of it was true, heated hatred. They had a strange relationship, even if neither of them would ever dare to admit it, but the kid was smart enough not to put it into question. Riece, however, was not.

Yes, they would be fine.

His brother would find some other way around Reice's tricks- maybe he would even drop his pride for a moment and ask the colonel for help.

It would do Al no good to start second guessing Ed now, so he would only allow himself to focus on escaping, and do his best to block out the doubt that his kidnapper tried to develop inside of him.

He wouldn't let Riece win.

He wouldn't let him know how often questions spun in his mind, distracting him from his single goal.

Al would free himself, save his brother the trouble, and then deal with Riece after the fact.

Thankfully, the young alchemist was kindly given plenty of time to consider just how he would go about it. After many failed attempts, he tried to accept that alchemy was somehow not the answer. He never wanted to grow too dependent on the art, but after much consideration, it continued to be his only foreseeable choice.

The only possible option was to repeat what he had tried to do before. It was difficult to get too creative when he didn't have any limbs to work with, unfortunately. If only he could find a new way to scratch out a circle, he would have a fighting chance.

All that mattered was timing and precision.

Al's previous attempts were rushed and hasty. As soon as he figured out how to make another circle, he hoped to draw it on the wall behind him, small enough so Riece wouldn't see it. He would then design the circle to direct the alchemic energy outwards and onto him in hopes of stretching the metal into what would resemble arms. Once done, he would drag himself over to the metal pipes on the other side of the room that disappeared into the ceiling and use the material to create sturdy legs, as he didn't want to risk that part of the armor to becoming too thin.

Now that he knew what to expect from the man, overpowering Riece should he hear the commotion and come down would be easy enough, but it wasn't his top priority. Alphonse didn't want to risk going upstairs and setting off a trap like what Riece had originally lured him into so many weeks ago, so he would simply create his own way to the surface.

The biggest problem with his plan was scratching out the intricate design of the circle without being able to look at it. He was fairly certain in his ability to do so, but it would take time and concentration. And it certainly didn't help that the spikes on his armor had been flattened with a mallet several days ago. However, he was convinced he could at least make a mark into the aging brick wall with the rough edges that were created.

Riece's next visit was impending, and Alphonse had no desire to start his circle only for that man to interrupt. Far too much time had passed since he last saw the older man, so he was expecting to hear footsteps coming down the steps at any time now.

Perhaps after his next encounter with the man, he would be able to put his plan into action.

Alphonse steeled himself as he waited and worked out the details of his next escape attempt to ensure that it was flawless. Something told him that if he didn't succeed this time, he wouldn't get the chance to try again.


	18. Chapter 18

Edward was pacing around the house rapidly.

He started by patrolling up and down the upstairs hallway, but Mustang eventually got tired of his hastening footsteps and told him to stop. In response, Ed fled downstairs, as he didn't quite have the mind to argue with the intolerant man that morning.

As his mind spun in circles, he soon found himself pacing around the kitchen while he waited for the colonel to finish getting ready. They had decided the day before that they would go to the address that was written in Alexander Riece's file and see if he was the person who kidnapped Alphonse. Edward was nearly boiling with the desire to find that man and leave a fist-shaped indent in his skull, but the thought of walking up to his front door so casually had him feeling restless and nervous.

It was thanks to that that Ed failed to get any sleep yet again. He tried to fall asleep, having learned his lesson the last time he deprived himself of it, but his brain refused to shut down. He doubted that it would slow him down, however, considering how he was unable to keep still for a few seconds at a time.

While it wasn't nearly as bad as it once was, his brain was currently feeling uncooperative to say the least. And if it wasn't for the unnerving knots in his stomach and the anxious adrenaline that pumped a false sense of energy into him, Ed likely would have long since fallen back to sleep.

After several pain-painstakingly long minutes, Mustang came down to the kitchen and lasted only a short moment before he snapped at the blond to stop pacing again.

And now, Edward was circling the coffee table in the living room, his footsteps muffled by the rug that bordered it. How Mustang was able to stay calm at time like this was beyond him.

He was possibly just hours away from finding Alphonse.

It was unlikely, he reminded himself over and over again. It was extremely unlikely and it would do him no good to get is hopes up. Surely the Riece he knew would have been smart enough to keep his captive somewhere that wasn't listed within the military's records. Chances were, it wasn't even him and they were barking up the wrong tree. Ed didn't want to get disappointed if that turned out to be the case, but he couldn't quite block out the whisper in the back of his head that said "maybe- just maybe this nightmare will soon end."

Even if Alexander Riece wasn't the same man they were hunting, being able to cross him off the list was still progress.

If only Mustang would hurry the hell up.

"Are you going to eat anything?" the colonel asked from the other room, interrupting his thoughts.

"I don't have time to eat," Edward replied as he continued to pace feverishly. He wasn't sure if he was able to keep anything down while his stomach continued to twist apprehensively anyway.

"If I have time to eat, then so do you."

Ed opened his mouth to argue, but cut himself off when Mustang took a step into the living room with a steaming mug in one hand, and something else in the other. He quickly warned "catch" before tossing the small object through the air.

He caught it clumsily, and revealed the projectile to be an apple. He glanced up at the colonel questionably. "I said I-"

"Just eat it." And with that, the man ducked back into the safety of the kitchen before Ed could consider throwing the fruit back at him.

With a disgruntled sigh, he bit into the apple and continued walking in circles, but at a marginally slower pace.

He supposed he should have been thankful. Edward wasn't sure if he just wasn't able to see it before, but since he completely broke down in front of Mustang in the middle of the night, he had begun to notice the little gestures of care, like making him eat when he was supposed to. It had been a long time since Ed could expect anyone to watch out for him in such a way, and he was now finding himself getting used to it.

As always, part of his stubborn mind told him to stop. But really, what was the harm? What was the worst that could happen? After everything that had happened since he was prompted to stay in the colonel's house, his brain failed to come up with a decent answer.

Ed lightly snickered at the expense of that perverse part of himself, then stopped his pacing. He stepped into the kitchen, eyes falling on the older man as he decorated a piece of toast, taking his sweet time.

"Hurry up," the kid drawled as he approached the island counter and propped his arms on the cold surface and mindlessly bit into the apple again. "What's taking you so long?"

"I'm going as fast as I can," Mustang replied easily without looking back at him.

Edward dropped his head into his arms and sighed exasperatedly. "Liar," he muttered lightly in response.

Mustang glanced at the blond from over his shoulder and chuckled to himself. After a moment, his smile fell and he turned back to his breakfast. " You're sure excited," he observed casually.

Edward shrugged. "I wouldn't say I'm excited. More anxious, if anything."

He nodded mutely in response, then replied, "Honestly, I'm doubting that this guy is even who we're looking for. I'm feeling more optimistic about this lead Hughes mentioned."

"Yeah, I was kinda thinking that t- wait; Hughes knows about this?"

Mustang turned around to face him and leaned against the counter as he bit into a decorative piece of toast. "Not exactly; he only knows that I'm looking for someone by that name. But I've been meaning to talk to you about that anyway."

Ed blinked at him for a moment, and he immediately understood that the other alchemist was going to create a new tangent, as well as another distraction. He shook his head, keeping himself from getting too curious. "Let's talk about it in the car; come oooon," the kid urged as he mentally pulled the colonel out of the kitchen after he disposed of his half eaten breakfast.

Mustang rolled his eyes and finished the last bite of his meal before following the antsy teenager to the front door.

"Don't forget a jacket," the man said offhandedly as he pulled his greatcoat off the coat rack by the door. Ed stopped just as his hand reached out for the doorknob, realizing that he wasn't wearing nearly enough to face the fierce cold of winter.

Of course, how could he forget? He was going out into the public in broad daylight- and he was just going to walk out without having anything to hide himself? Edward mentally scolded himself for getting too comfortable.

He wordlessly retrieved his own coat as well, inwardly wishing he could pull out the familiar red one instead. But with a sigh, he slid his arms into the long, brown raincoat that had kept him safe thus far.

When he opened the door and stepped out into the open world for the first time in days, he wasn't quite prepared for the frosty gust of wind that greeted him in the face. Edward inhaled deeply and pulled the coat in tighter around himself as his eyes trailed upwards. There was a thin, gray haze over the morning sky. Even the sun was incapable of breaking through the gloom, and settled for just casting its dimmed light through the clouds, devoid of any warmth.

Ed quickly pulled the hood over his head despite the lack of rain and shifted his eyes back and forth down the road. Thankfully, there was no one nearby and he stayed mostly behind the colonel as the two alchemists climbed into the car that was parked on the side of the street. Edward crawled into the back, figuring it was the most effective way to stay out of view.

The air inside the vehicle was just as cold, motivating the colonel to get the engine going as quickly as possible. Within seconds, they were on their way.

Edward wrapped his arms around himself and suppressed a shutter, just as Mustang cleared his throat as he kept his gaze on the road.

"Regarding that promise I made to you a few weeks ago," the man began steadily, his expression unreadable.

Edward watched him suspiciously as he waited for the heat to kick in. "Yeah?"

"I can only make so much progress on my own. This case would move much faster if I could let the rest of my team in on what's happening. So I wanted to check if it was alright with you if I were to let them in on the situation."

Ed turned to look forward and stared at nothing, holding his hand up to the air vent. He had nearly forgotten about the promise that he thrown onto the colonel so long ago in a desperate attempt to escape. But even so, he always knew in the back of his mind that something held the man back from sharing his secrets with the rest of the world.

Given the circumstances, it only made sense for him to want to give that information to the others, especially if it helped. Regardless, Edward still felt a hesitance that he couldn't quite understand.

But Ed had made the decision the other night to trust Mustang. There have been many instances in the past where he thought the same thing, but never to that extent- never with as much certainty. Not once had the colonel let him down or given him any reason to doubt. So Edward was going to trust him to do what was best.

"Okay," he answered after a prolonged stretch of silence that he had failed to notice. "You can tell them." Something still recoiled at the thought of more people knowing where he had been and what he had been up to, but the blond stubbornly stepped on the fear, banishing it to a deep corner of his mind.

"Just like that?" Mustang asked carefully, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

"Yep."

Edward felt eyes on him as he feigned ignorance and gazed out the window as the cold city sped by. The seconds stretched on quietly until he was no longer able to bare it any longer; the kid stole a quick glance towards the older man, and narrowed his eyes when he caught a hint of an amused smile on his face.

"What's so funny?" he muttered, pointedly ignoring the embarrassed flush he felt.

"Nothing; nothing at all," Mustang replied lightly as his smile widened into a grin, earning a deeper scowl from the blond. "It's just that I can't remember you ever agreeing to any of my suggestions so readily."

"Your memory must be getting bad in your old age." Ed folded his arms over the seat belt and glared outside. But as much as he didn't want to outright admit it, Mustang was right. He had never gone along with one of the colonel's plans without portraying any skepticism or doubts, or bombarding him with a fusillade of questions. But this time, he was leaving it all up to the older alchemist. It was something that he had never done before, and never thought he would do in the first place. Edward never would have trusted anyone enough to let them help hold Al's fate in their hands. He never had much of a reason to, since he was always certain that he could carry the weight alone.

He should have known Mustang would have gotten all smug about it. _Bastard._

Then without warning, a dull pang ached in Ed's right shoulder. He grimaced slightly and automatically rubbed the joint with his other hand. But almost immediately, Mustang's inquiring eyes pulled his attention away from their surroundings.

"I was starting to get used to the storm's air pressure, but sometimes it still hurts," Ed said in reply to the unspoken question as he rolled his shoulder stiffly, imitating a shrug. "It'll probably snow soon."

"Just what we need," the colonel said sourly as the car slowed to stop at a red light. "More water falling from the sky."

The teenager leaned to the side and rested his forehead against the cool glass as his hand slipped from his shoulder. "I dunno, I kinda like the snow... I've had some good memories in it." He liked it occasionally, in moderation, anyway.

Heavy snow was a rare occurrence in Resembool. Playing in the snow with Al and Winry were some of the best memories from his childhood, before it was all ripped away. But thinking of those days as he waited for traffic to carry on only served to remind him of all he had to do.

He had to find Riece, punch him in the jaw, rescue Alphonse, then restore his body so he can once again feel the gentle fall of snowflakes against his skin.

"We almost there?"

"Just a few more minutes."

Ed began impatiently tapping his foot as they drew closer. The conversation served as a nice distraction from the situation at hand, but now there was no way to avoid the apprehension that swiftly loomed over him like a cloud. They began discussing a strategy for the worst case scenario, but Edward was more likely to just wing it, no matter how much planning Mustang put into it.

Now that he had been sitting down for a while, the tiredness was beginning to catch up with him. His mind started to feel fuzzy and a swift wave of dizziness washed over him. If Ed had been standing up, he undoubtedly would have nearly fallen. He kept his forehead on the window and closed his eyes, determined to keep the colonel from noticing. He wasn't up for hearing another speech about how he needs to get proper sleep.

Edward was pulled out of his mind by an annoyed grown coming from the dark-haired man.

"There aren't any open parking spots in front of the apartment. I'll have to park further away," he explained warily as the car turned a corner. Ed was almost envious of the simple concerns that seemed to have occupied his mind.

Mustang at last found a spot alongside the road and the two climbed out. Edward hastily ensured that the hood was still over his head before anyone could see him. He kept his head low and faced the car, away from the people walking back and forth across the sidewalk. Mustang locked the vehicle, then circled around it to join him.

"No one is looking at you; try to relax."

A sharp retort came to mind almost immediately, but as he looked past the rim of his hood, the words died on his tongue. Mustang was looking down at him with a straight, controlled expression, but for the briefest moment, there was something else far underneath the surface. The approaching unknown took its tole on him as well, as they both walked forward, completely blind to what was to come.

As the alchemists walked down the sidewalk, over a block away from their target, Edward kept a wary eye on those who passed them. As Mustang had said, none of them spared him more than a passing glance. But somehow when he was traveling alone in the past, he attracted more attention despite being more careful. He could only guess that people overlooked him because he was alongside an adult.

On any normal day, that observation would have annoyed him to no end. But of course, he once welcomed the public's attention like how a candle welcomed a moth.

"Which way are we going?" Ed asked as they approached a crosswalk.

"Forward."

The teenager nodded wordlessly under the hood as he continue to keep his gaze down, indulging himself in his scattered thoughts once again.

Edward glared at the concrete as he fought back against the urge to yawn. Back when he had stayed awake for several nights in a row, it felt like he had almost built up an endurance to the side effects. But now that he had begun to recover, going over a day without a blink of sleep was feeling as difficult as it originally was.

Being handicapped by his own mind would certainly not make it any easier to find Alphonse. He always knew that from the beginning, but the only difference now as opposed to a week ago, was that many of the burdens that weighed him down and kept him awake at night had lightened. Thanks to that, Edward had been getting much more sleep than before, except for last night. He wasn't entirely sure why he was that nervous about facing one of the suspects, but it left him feeling restless all night. Perhaps the excitement of possibly finding Al was too much to push aside, even momentarily.

He automatically glanced to the side for traffic as he stepped onto the crosswalk but forgot to actually register what he was looking at, wondering how they manage to lose a seven foot tall suit of armor anyw-

Edward's mind froze when he looked ahead just as a car raced by, mere feet away from where he was standing. A wave of confusion washed over him, but before he had the chance to consider it, an earsplitting horn assaulted his eardrums on his left, leaving him stunned. He turned his head towards the sound to see a large truck barreling towards, showing no signs of slowing down.

His heart jumped into his throat but he was given no time to react. In that instant, the idea of clapping his hands together came to mind, but the alchemic equations and his reflexes had all but abandoned him.

The image of the truck's face embedded itself into his eyelids, even as he closed his eyes, expecting to feel the impact slam against him.

Two arms snaked their away around his torso from behind and he was pulled backwards. The sudden movement disoriented him and the world spun as he felt a gust of wind sweep over him when the truck raced by.

Edward was dragged to the ground, but instead of landing on the hard concrete of the sidewalk as he had expected, he only felt something soft and warm embrace him. Hesitantly, the kid opened his eyes and immediately noticed the black sleeves that were holding onto him from behind.

Mustang was laying on his back with Ed on top of him, after seemingly tripping over the curb of the sidewalk from yanking him out of harms way. His eyes were tightly shut for what felt like many long seconds, until he released a shaken exhale and looked up at the blond, who blankly stared back over his shoulder.

Edward vaguely noticed that his hands- no, his entire body was shivering from what he assumed to be a mixture of shock and fear. Ed was no stranger to life-threatening situations, but they were never before caused by something as meaningless as oncoming traffic. He almost died.

He almost _died_.

But Mustang had saved him.

His mouth gaped open as if to say something, but no words formed. He was silenced when the fear in the older man's dark eyes swiftly gave way to what he could only describe as rage.

The colonel heaved himself up to a sitting position on the sidewalk, ignoring the shocked civilians that surrounded them both. His arms released Edward, but only to shift to his shoulders.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" he demanded and shook the kid to ensure that he had no choice but to meet his furious gaze, although Ed's eyes had trouble focusing on the man. "What were you thinking, walking out into traffic like that!?"

"I-"

"You're an idiot," Mustang scolded through his teeth but voice lacked true malice. His grip on Edward's shoulders tightened and he closed his eyes again, them abruptly pulled him into a tight hug. "Don't you ever scare me like that again- understand?"

Ed stammered to respond, still feeling the effects of shock by both the truck, and the anger that Mustang expressed. He froze in the embrace, unsure what to do. Although the strength in which Mustang's arms wrapped around him gave him little to no options anyway. But in spite of that, he strangely didn't feel uncomfortable or awkward.

"Do you understand!?"

"Y-yeah," he spat out defensively. But his response seemed to have appeased the colonel, because after a moment of controlled silence, he drew back from the blond and looked him over once more as if he was unable to believe that Edward was unharmed. For a brief moment, Ed found himself almost longing for that contact to return- the warmth was much preferable to the cold that took its place. But after a moment, the man exhaled slowly and pulled himself to his feet.

Edward was quick to follow, but his first attempt ended with his legs giving out before he could get a few inches off the ground. Mustang grabbed him by the arms and pulled him up, refusing to let go until he proved himself capable of standing on his own.

His hands and legs were still shaking, but Ed managed to calm down marginally after a few moments, just as he realized his hood had fallen down. He quickly threw it back over his head, but it seemed like the witnesses were far too distracted by the kid almost getting run over by a truck to pay any attention to his identity.

"Not enough sleep again?" Mustang was silently daring Ed to try lying to him about it, and risk facing the consequences, judging by the look in his eyes that told him to be careful.

Edward opened his mouth to ask the stupid question "how'd you know" but promptly stopped himself short. Instead, he just nodded solemnly.

In response, the colonel simply shook his head. Ed turned to watch the street lights instead, forcefully keeping himself form dwelling on the new emotions that conglomerated together. Was it shame? Embarrassment? He tried to push the thoughts away with the shake of his head.

The lights at the crosswalk turned, allowing the crowd to continue on. Ed moved to follow, albeit more reluctantly, but he paused when Mustang remained still. The man sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair, wearily watching nothing in particular as his eyes were clouded by thought. After noticing the kid's questioning stare, he pursed his lip hesitantly.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea."

"What?" Ed asked, narrowing his eyes. "I'm not going to walk into traffic again, if that's what you're afraid of."

"No, it's not-" A thoughtful pause. "I'm just getting a bad feeling about this. Maybe you should wait in the car."

"That's all the more reason not to go alone," he quickly said incredulously. Edward already felt ashamed of himself for being oblivious enough to walk in front of a moving truck; if he were to miss out on potentially helping to save his brother, it would only serve as salt on the wound. He knew the older man meant well, but...

"I was already beginning to think something was off, and now this happened," Mustang said, gesturing to the street with a wave of his hand. "Besides, we both know that it'll be unlikely for Alphonse to actually be there."

"I know that, but..." He trailed off quietly as his hands curled into stubborn fists by his sides. Whatever was causing Mustang to get nervous, it probably wasn't because Riece and Al were waiting for them up in an apartment building. At least, he could only guess as much. Edward didn't want to go because he thought the colonel might get ambushed or because he thought Al might be waiting for him. (Though that was part of it.) Primarily, he wanted to go simply for the sake of being there. He didn't want to sit in a car and wait. He knew the man cared and probably just didn't want him to get hurt, as portrayed by how mad he got, but despite that, Edward couldn't stay behind.

The blond looked up at Mustang with a newly lit determination gleaming in his eyes. "I'm going whether you like it or not." He was well aware that they could argue about it for hours if necessary, and he couldn't be sure as to who would win. But in that moment, he really didn't care.

Mustang held his gaze for several seconds, but his shoulders slumped and a relenting sigh escaped his lips. "Fine. But if anything happens, you need to get out of there. Alright?" The blond wasn't sure if he agreed because the previous incident had sucked the energy to argue out of him, or if he was just trying not to come across as overprotective, but Edward was not about to complain.

"Alright," Ed drawled impatiently, then turned his attention towards the street lights, waiting for the crosswalk to cycle through.

Even though the day wasn't off to a great start so far, it probably couldn't get much worse.

* * *

That was a complete waste of time.

Both he and Fullmetal were growing increasingly nervous as they got closer to their target, dreading the possibilities that awaited them on the other side of the door with baited breath. But as soon as Alexander Riece opened his door in response to the knocking, Edward had completely lost interest. Just one look at his face was enough to know that he wasn't the man they were looking for, apparently.

Being as thorough as he was, Roy remained to ask the man a few questions regardless. He was overall rather cooperative, and was all too happy to complain about being unfairly discharged from the force. But even that wasn't enough to so much as raise an eyebrow at, since the man only held any resentment for the individuals involved in his situation; none in which had any relation to Roy or Ed whatsoever.

As the colonel spoke to Alexander, the younger alchemist decided to wait "discretely" in the hallway. Luckily for him, the conversation did not last long once it became clear that it was just another dead end.

He joined his despondent subordinate in the apartment's hallway after thanking the ex-suspect for sparing his time. The kid still looked a little off, which was perfectly understandable after almost getting hit by a truck not even an hour ago. He was no longer shaking, but there was a strange look in his eyes that Roy couldn't place, but could somehow relate to.

If he was being completely honest, Roy was still feeling somewhat rattled from the event as well. When he closed his eyes, he could still see Edward stepping onto the blacktop, clearly oblivious to the cars that roared past him, until one got particularly close and left him frozen to the spot.

Roy couldn't remember making the decision to move when his body kicked itself into action. Had he been a mere second or two late, there was no telling what kind of injuries the kid could have sustained, assuming he survived the hit at all.

Being so incredibly close to losing someone was always a sobering experience.

He hadn't quite realized just how frequently he felt concerned for the younger alchemist's health within the past few weeks until then. If the kid would take better care of himself and actually get some damn sleep, then it wouldn't have been as much of a problem, but he supposed Ed didn't really get much of a choice in the matter. Not currently, anyway.

"We can cross him off the list," Roy announced quietly when Ed looked up at him from under the rim of his hood.

Edward sighed loudly and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. "Yep. Guess you were worried for nothing," he mused, though didn't look to be particularly relieved.

"Yeah," Roy breathed absently as they began walking down the hall to exit the building. The subtle concern that resided in the back of his mind did not go away, however. It was small enough not to make him worry too much and caused him to hope he was just overreacting, but it was also a gentle reminder to stay on guard.

When Roy stepped out into the cold winter air once more and stood at the edge of the sidewalk, the first thing he noticed was the increasing winds that blew his bangs into his eyes and chilled him through his many layers. The second thing he noticed was that the streets and sidewalks were strangely deserted for a Saturday, devoid of any signs of life within close proximity.

As his unease swiftly built up, he glanced down to Edward only for his suspicions to be confirmed. The blond was surveying the area slowly and had become noticeably rigid once he stepped outside as well, likely feeling just as oddly exposed as Roy.

Edward abruptly inhaled sharply and took a step back, looking forward with eyes wide with alarm. "Colonel," he said quietly and pointed across the street.

Roy stepped behind the blond to see exactly where he was pointing. On the other side of the street, a small group of blue and black uniformed men could be seen between two tall buildings. The officers remained there for a second more, then disappeared behind the corner, having not noticed the two watching them.

Several possible explanations came to mind as Roy scanned the area, failing to realize that he was holding his breath. And then he saw it; in the same direction where he had originally parked, there was what appeared to be a blockade in the distance. Traffic was stopped and redirected as a scarce amount of military officials guarded it.

The colonel looked down the opposite side of the street and saw the same thing, just as he had expected. Someone decided to block off this small section of town, just as Roy and Ed so happened to be there.

Something was very wrong.

"Is that... is that a _blockade?_ " Edward asked nonplussed as he squint his eyes into the distance.

Roy nodded grimly, wondering how this managed to slip past his notice. Since they were in the middle of the area that had been closed, he would bet that it wouldn't be easy to get out unseen. He had a few suspicions, one seeming much more likely than all others. No matter what the case was, he found himself inwardly seething. He needed to get to the bottom of this. He wasn't sure how it was possible, but it was nearly impossible for this to not be about Edward's presence. Roy knew he needed to keep Ed safe from those who hunted for him, but to do that, he needed to know what he was trying to avoid.

"Stay back; I'm going to find out what's going on," he ordered, looking down at the kid for a reaction.

"Wait-" Ed stammered quickly. "Is it a good idea to let them know that you're even here in the first place?"

Roy narrowed his eyes as he spotted a glimpse of more soldiers further away, on their side of the street. The alchemists backed out of their view. "They probably already know," he muttered darkly. This was far too much to call a coincidence. But how could anyone know that he would have been in this part of town on this day?

Ed hesitated for a moment, before it gave was to understanding. He nodded confidently. "I'll hide out somewhere. But hurry up."

"Keep your head down; I'll be right back." He started walking just after Fullmetal nodded again, then looked over his shoulder when he was a few feet away. "And don't forget what I said earlier." Edward was in much more danger than he was, and Roy fully expected the kid to make a break for it if he needed to.

Unfortunately, his sixth sense was right on the dot. He should have insisted that Ed wait in the car, or maybe he should have considered not even going. He could have put this off for another day.

Roy shook the thoughts out of his head as his pace increased to a jog. There was no point in dwelling on his regrets. Especially not when there was still a chance they could get out of this unscathed. Edward was a capable kid; he had kept himself out of sight before Roy cornered him, so surely he would be fine.

Besides, Roy intended to waste no time. Ideally, he'd find out what's happening, go back to Ed, and find a way out of the area without being seen. Whoever had sent the soldiers had to have known that Roy and/or Ed would also have been there; there was no other explanation. If they simply ran without finding out who was behind it, he could easily be falling into their trap.

Was it really possible for someone to have discovered that he had been helping Fullmetal? He had been careful ever since Douglas first showed signs of suspicion. It didn't add up. Why was this happening? What was he missing?

He turned the corner around a building where he saw a glimpse of the familiar blue, to be greeted with a lonely alley. After he searched for a while longer in the labyrinth of paths scattered around the compressed buildings, he eventually ran into another small group of soldiers whispering amungst themselves. Most of them were in the black uniforms of the military police. They appeared to be tense and alert, as if they were preparing to go into war. Roy pulled out his military ID as he hastily approached them.

They noticed him walking forward and moved to stop him. Before they could get a word out, he flashed his ID in the face of the highest ranking member.

"Tell me what's happening here, Major," he ordered sternly, leaving no room for argument.

The middle aged man snapped to attention upon realizing Roy's rank and forced out a response. "We were ordered not to repeat our orders by Colonel Douglas, sir."

 _Oh, how did I know,_ Roy thought spitefully as he kept himself from cursing the man out in front of his own subordinates. Somehow, he knew he could leave it to Henry Douglas to interfere with his life however possible, which apparently included miraculously finding out where he and Edward were.

Which begged the question: what else did he know?

"Where is he?" Roy asked coldly, his voice laced with a silent warning.

The Major hesitated, as if wondering if disclosing that information somehow went against his boss's orders. However, he eventually relented. "He should be deeper in the alley, to the right."

Without much more than a nod of acknowledgment, Roy stepped through the group of soldiers, ignoring their blatant stares as he followed the vague directions.

It crossed his mind that perhaps he should have just gone back to Edward then and there, but he would not have been able to rest until he discovered how the insufferable colonel knew that he would have been there. Even as he turned the corner and continued marching, he was planning out just what he was going to say to the man's face.

Roy's anger subsided momentarily when he spotted three more black-clad men, kneeling on the ground with their guns drawn at both corners of an intersection between the tightly placed buildings. They paid Roy no mind, far too focused on whatever their objective was, watching the alley as if they were waiting for their target to walk through at any moment. The other paths all appeared to lead directly back to the main road, so Roy ignored them and continued on fearlessly.

As he got closer, the soldiers began to notice them. One of them thankfully recognized him and verbally stopped the other two from doing or saying anything idiotic. As they were clearly unsure of how to react to his appearance, Roy stepped past the soldiers and carefully looked around the corner that they were kneeling by, revealing another long stretch of alley. This one was significantly wider than most, and was probably often used by the residents of the area as a common path for travel.

At the end was a single turn to the left. Douglas was probably down there, which means the answers he was searching for were also.

Roy continued forward, ignoring the soldiers behind him urging him to wait. His reputation as the Flame Alchemist may have done no favors to his ego, but he highly doubted he had anything to fear from whatever Douglas was up to.

As long as it didn't involve Edward.

Even though the chances of this not involving Fullmetal were slim to none, the fact that it just doesn't make sense for him to know about Ed's whereabouts kept him hopeful. Desperately, vainly hopeful.

A bright achemic flash of light bounced off the walls at the end of the alley from around the corner. Just before Roy could increase is pace, he was instead frozen stiff when his short, blond subordinate came charging down around the corner, nearly slipping off balance in his frantic hurry.

Relief flashed across Ed's face when he spotted the colonel, but Roy only felt a spike of terror.

"Wait Ed-" he began to tell the kid to go back, or hide, or something, because the three men further back were waiting for him but his tongue was stilled when he looked over the teenager's head to see Colonel Douglas quickly following, with his own gun held tightly in his hands. Roy had left the kid for not even ten minutes; _how the hell did this happen?_

Edward must have seen the fear that crossed Roy's visage, because he stopped several yards away from him and looked over his shoulder just as Douglas stopped and pointed the gun at him. The teenager glanced back at him quickly in the corner of his eye, making it clear that they were thinking the same thing. Despite all his power and authority, Roy's hands were tied as the other officer kept a wary eye on him as well.

"Stop!" Roy barked as an irrational voice told him the other man just might pull the trigger. He heard footsteps behind him and didn't need to spare a glance to know that the other three soldiers were rushing in as backup.

His mind was still spinning with unanswered questions, but one thing was clear; this was all meticulously planned out to corner the Fullmetal Alchemist. When Roy thought he was being clever and staying one step ahead, he was actually stepping into the same trap he tried to avoid. His choices led them to this moment. If he had done something different...

If he had just stayed by Ed's side...

Edward had crafted his expression to one of his usual brand of anger, but there was a plea beneath his eyes when he cast Roy with the most distrustful glare he could muster under the circumstances, which paled in comparison to the true distrust that he had targeted the man with in the past. No one ever said Ed was good at acting, but it was better than nothing.

Once again, Roy found himself completely powerless in one of the rare moments when Ed actually needed him to save the day.

"Glad you could join us," Douglas said flatly to Roy while keeping his pale blue eyes trained on the teenager. Wordlessly, he waved a hand and two more soldiers came from around the corner behind him, one in which was carrying wooden handcuffs, used specifically for uncontrollable alchemists.

Roy inched forward, but wouldn't dare step in front of Edward protectively, contrary to how much he wanted to. As far as anyone else was concerned, he was just as interested in detaining Fullmetal as Douglas was. But that alone wasn't enough to keep him quiet.

"You are not putting that thing on my subordinate," Roy growled at the unsuspecting Lieutenant, who visibly hesitated. The men behind the Flame Alchemist also began to stir uncertainly from the tension that hung in the air.

Finally, Douglas nodded slowly and lowered his gun, seeing no reason to keep it up when four others were still pointing their own weapons at the kid. "I see. it's just as I thought." he mused at first, looking over the blond's head, who remained still between the opposing colonels.

Roy held his breath and glared at the man, mentally daring him to announce the truth out loud. By the sound of it, he had figured it out; he knew Roy was secretly helping Ed. Douglas knew he was right to suspect the Flame Alchemist all along.

"You want to claim Fullmetal's capture for yourself and reap the rewards," he accused, narrowing his eyes.

_Or... maybe he doesn't..._

Roy's spinning mind was put on pause as he coerced his face to remain neutral. So maybe his reputation wasn't up for forfeit. That was certainly a plus, but his primary focus remained on the subordinate that stood nervously before him. Although he did have to wonder when he managed to change Douglas' mind.

Fighting back a sigh, Roy feigned a confident smirk. "Can you blame me?" he asked rhetorically, easily slipping into the guise of an ambitious, uncaring officer. He tried to ignore the strange look Edward gave him and the pang of guilt that accompanied it.

"Although, I cannot deny that this was a _team effort,_ " Douglas continued, forcing the last two words out as if they tasted sour in his mouth. He then fished through his breast pocket for something. "You may have discovered where he would be, but at least I thought to bring backup."

From his pocket, the blond man pulled out the black and white photo of Alexander Riece. Roy couldn't actually see the face from the distance he stood, but knew what it was without a doubt.

"I'm not quite sure how these two are connected, but I'm sure you can fill in the blanks when you fill out a _complete_ report," Douglas continued as he slid the photo back into his jacket.

 _Control yourself, Mustang,_ he thought as he ignored the urge to curl his hands into fists and punch something- or someone.

"... You took that from my desk," Roy said quietly as it dawned on him. The coffee spill; that bastard must have done that on purpose purely to distract him long enough to swipe the photo. He then discovered Alexander's identity and address through that alone, and the rest had to have been pure guess work and good luck. Or in Roy's case, bad luck.

He was an idiot for not seeing it sooner.

That at least explained why Douglas was under the impression that Roy was planning on catching Fullmetal without informing the other colonel, instead of assisting the young blond as he previously suspected. It actually seemed like something he would do if his subordinate was not the target.

Douglas likely thought that it was Alexander Riece who was harboring Ed instead. The colonel saw the photo on Roy's desk, assumed a connection to Fullmetal, then came here while acting under the expectation that Edward would be nearby. That had to be the only explanation, given how prepared the man and his team were. Douglas was always relatively known for his foresight.

"It was merely misplaced."

Roy's eyes narrowed marginally while he inwardly scrambled to figure out what to do, but the longer he thought about it, the more he had to accept that he couldn't do anything. Fighting back in any way was simply out of the question and stalling would be pointless.

He figured Ed could have gotten away by himself before, but the kid was already breathing heavily, he looked worn, and something gave Roy the impression that he was waiting to see what the black-haired man was going to do, hoping he would do something clever and miraculously get them out of there.

If that was the case, then Edward had overestimated him.

Now that the blond was surrounded with several guns pointed towards him, his chances of escape appeared to be almost nonexistent. The black and blue-clad men were wary of the power of alchemists, and undoubtedly knew what to expect from Fullmetal specifically. The moment he moved to clap, they would react.

Edward was almost killed by an ongoing truck not long ago. Roy wasn't about to risk losing the kid again because of a bullet.

"Arrest him," Douglas ordered coldly, earning a nervous flinch from the blond. Edward backed up away from the man who approached him with the handcuffs, but he had nowhere to go. The others who stood behind Roy began to approach as well, as they all worked as one to close in on the small alchemist.

A resigned emptiness formed inside of Roy's chest when he realized that there was one thing he could do. It was one of the last things he ever wanted to do to Ed, but there seemed to be no other way. He was probably going to hate himself for it, but better him than one of them.

"W-what..." Edward's voice was thin and nervous, but all signs of it dissipated and were once again replaced with a fierce defensiveness. "Stay away from me!" He snapped and brought up his hands in preparation to clap. The men tensed, and Roy made up his mind.

"Wait!" Roy walked decisively past Edward, earning a flinch from the boy due to his sudden movement. He stopped in front of Douglas and the lieutenant with the handcuffs, and swiftly pried the damnable object from the soldier's grasp. Before either of them could question him, Roy met the other colonel's stern gaze with a burning determination that secretly clawed at his own heart. His expression remained steeled as he willed himself to ignore the ache.

"I'll do it," he growled quietly, far too quietly for Ed to hear from where he stood several feet away. Roy didn't intend for his voice to sound as harsh as it did. "If anyone is going to put this thing on the Fullmetal Alchemist, it's going to be me." He looked down at the wooden block in his hand, quietly cursing its existence.

Douglas watched him curiously but didn't respond as Roy turned away from him to face Edward. For once, he wasn't entirely sure what kind of expression he was giving off, but he hoped Ed was able to see the silent apology and just how much this was hurting him. His lungs felt restricted as the blond looked back at him, widening his golden eyes with a horrified comprehension.

Despite the conviction in his composure, Roy remained still, only staring at his subordinate for what felt like several long seconds. Ed stared back, equally as frozen, his usually focused gaze fogged by confusion and trepidation.

"Why hesitate?" Douglas' grating voice asked from behind, jolting him out of his brief trance. "It's as you said other day; he's just some kid. This shouldn't be so difficult. Haven't you been looking forward to this? Or should I do it instead?"

Edward flinched from the words and dropped his gaze spitefully to the ground.

_Don't believe him, Ed! I didn't say- I didn't mean that._

He mentally cursed the other colonel and his grip on the handcuff tightened until his knuckles turned white. Then all at once, he closed his eyes and willed most of the visible tension out with a steady breath. When he opened them again, the kid was still looking away from him. He was biting into his lip nervously and his gaze was clouded with conflicting thoughts and fears. Roy wanted nothing more than to banish every worry from his mind, but instead, he was forced to only make them worse by personally becoming the source of that fear.

"I said I would take responsibility for this," he whispered, unsure and uncaring as to who heard him. _And so I will._

Roy took a step forward and Ed immediately jumped out of his thoughts. The kid backed up towards the wall, as he would much rather keep his back to something solid than expose himself to the gun-wielding soldiers that stood on either side.

The expression that he had was drastically similar to how he looked weeks ago, back when he was distrustful and afraid of everyone. It was like every shred of progress Roy had made with the boy was instantly washed away, like it never existed. If he could just explain the situation- but no, there was nothing he could tell the blond that he didn't already know. He had to know that Roy didn't want to do this. Ed had to know that he was sorry and would have done something to avoid this had he known, but there was no other option. He would rather look for another way out in the future than see him get shot and potentially killed.

Maybe there was something else he could do, but Roy was given no time to search for it. He had blindly walked into this situation and as punishment for his foolishness, he had to act in the moment in accordance to his roll as a military officer.

Edward looked tense and jumpy, as if he could spring into action at any given moment. Roy held his one free hand up carefully, as if he was approaching a wild animal. The handcuff was kept close to his side, and hopefully out of Ed's primary view.

"Calm down, Fullmetal," he said quietly, unsure if he was out of earshot yet. It pained him to speak to the boy as if the past two weeks had never happened, but he could risk nothing less with so many eyes and ears on him. Ed had to understand. "It'll be alright."

Somehow, his own words burned his tongue. Did he have the right to console Edward just after he volunteered to subject him to something that he had been fearing for weeks- something that Roy had _promised_ he would not do?

He had actually managed to convince the kid that he wouldn't do anything to interfere with his search for Alphonse. It took much persuasion, but in the end, he succeeded in gaining Ed's trust. Only to do this. Only to turn around and seemingly stab him in the back. But he had no choice.

He had no choice.

Roy stepped closer, slowly closing the gap.

"No, stop," Edward whispered, but his voice was alarmed and anxious, laced with a desperate plea that tore at his heart. Roy could see it in his eyes that he knew what the colonel was thinking, but the confusion and apprehension clouded his judgment. "You said- you said you wouldn't..." his voice trailed off as his wide, golden eyes shot between Roy, the restraint in his hand, and the soldiers who watched.

"I-" Roy took a step closer, but he had apparently crossed an invisible line. Edward flinched and pressed his hands together as the simple human desire to survive kicked in. He saw the gunmen on both sides take aim.

"Don't, Ed!"

The young alchemist remained motionless with his palms still pressed in front of him, looking up at the colonel who was now almost right in front of him. Ed was breathing heavily as the tension sucked away at his energy. His arms were rigid and keeping himself from finishing the motion appeared to be an arduous task.

"There's no other way. You have to trust me," he begged under his breath so only Edward could hear.

Edward's expression fluidly shifted into a glare. "I could get away," he said quietly. Roy was uncertain if he was saying that as a warning to the colonel, or a suggestion to let him try.

"Don't do it," he replied in what sounded like between a strange mix of an order and a request. "It's not worth risking your life."

"Then I'd just be risking Al's life," he growled but the fiery anger began to give way to a type of miserable, defeated sadness that Roy had only seen on his face one other time.

_I just wanted to save Al._

Edward's words rung through his head when he was met with that same level of misery just two nights ago. That pained expression somehow had to power to rip at his very soul and drain his determination to see this through.

But he had no other choice.

Roy knelt down in front of him and carefully took hold of Ed's flesh wrist, then gingerly pulled it away from the automail. His arm quivered in the man's grip, from both fear and reluctance.

"I'm sorry Edward," Roy whispered, accomplishing the biggest reason as to why he offered to arrest him himself. He only wanted to get close enough to apologize for letting him down.

The colonel guided Ed's wrists into the binds, all while wishing with ever fiber in his being that he could just let go. Just as he was beginning to think that the blond was much more cooperative than he would have expected, something clicked in his golden eyes. Edward reeled back as if he just then realized what was happening and the drive to free himself took over. But before he could slip out, Roy clamped it shut.

"Wait, no, you can't!" Edward yelled and he tried in vain to pull away. Roy quickly rose to his feet and attempted to keep him still by grabbing hold of his arms.

"Ed, calm d-"

"NO, get off of me!" He yelled hysterically and struggled against his grip, vaguely aware that most of the surrounding soldiers had sheathed their guns and continued to close in on him. "I need to find Al! You can't stop me! You can't! You _promised_!"

Roy was stunned by the hurt and betrayal in his screams, and was pushed away from him as the lower ranking men took charge and worked to restrain to frantic alchemist. The colonel watched helplessly as they kicked behind Ed's knees and roughly forced him to the ground, holding onto his arms with enough strength to make him grimace. Ed looked to be nearing the point of hyperventilation as he was given no choice but to stare holes into the concrete, shivering with dread. His lips were moving marginally, repeating something only known to himself.

The older alchemist assumed Douglas motioned for them to move their new prisoner, but he wasn't watching to be sure. His dark eyes were trained on the kid who now refused to look at him, far too occupied with the battling thoughts and emotions that spun in his conflicted visage.

But just as the other men pulled the weakened child back to his feet and practically dragged him past Roy and in the direction of wherever they parked, a pair of golden eyes landed on him for just a moment. He felt physically ill by the impact of that stare when he caught the brief look, nearly staggering from the weight of his gaze that seemed to scream _how could you?_

Roy was forced to look away from the distraught kid like the coward he was.

He felt like a miserable, pathetic traitor. He had given Edward his word multiple times that it would not come to this- that Ed would never find himself in chains. Roy had never expected to be the one to do it himself.

He could clearly feel Douglas watching him, and continued to hold up the emotionless, indifferent exterior that was usually so easy to slip into.

Before the other colonel could consider saying some brash comment that could threaten to break his composure, Roy turned away in the opposite direction that they were taking his subordinate. As much as he wanted to follow directly beside the kid, no matter how much it hurt, he knew he had to get his own car and meet them at Central Command.

It wasn't until he was around the corner, safe from prying eyes, did he allow his hardened demeanor to falter. His gloved fist collided into the rough, brick wall and he cursed under his breath as his seething rage and self-loathing reached new heights. First he let Ed walk into traffic, and now this.

He wouldn't blame the blond for wanting to be nowhere near him, but regardless, Roy wasn't about to let them do whatever they wanted. He was going to be breathing down Douglas' neck and doing whatever possible to back up Edward from behind the scenes.

He felt like a complete and utter failure and deserved every shred of hatred that Edward felt towards him. But even so, Roy wasn't going to lie down and accept this. This was not the time for self-pity. Even with Fullmetal in the custody of the military, the war was not yet over. It was about time he gathered his own army and switched to the offensive.


	19. Chapter 19

Edward dropped his gaze down at the wooden handcuffs in his lap that held his wrists apart, allowing him to only just barely brush his fingers against each other. The two long wooden blocks with holes cut out to fit his small limbs were locked together with chains and a padlock on either side. The wood chaffed against his skin and threatened to give him a splinter every time he moved the wrong way, but fighting the urge to get it off became more difficult with every passing minute.

A hand slammed down onto the table, jolting Ed's attention back upwards as the sound reverberated around the small, gray interrogation room.

The man who introduced himself as colonel Henry Douglas stood at the other end of the wooden table with his open palm on the surface. The bright light above his head burned Ed's eyes and agitated his growing headache as it left a blinding reflection against the walls on all sides.

"I believe I asked you a question," he stated as his hardened blue eyes looked down at him. The man had been at this for what had to have been three or four hours now and his patience was beginning to wear. At the beginning, he came across as an unshakably stoic man who cared for nothing else but his job, but he was ill-prepared to face off against Edward's infamous stubbornness.

On Douglas' right sat a man dressed in the black uniform of the military police, who had a pen and many papers in front of him, writing down everything that was said. However, he had not written much, as Ed had remained silent since the beginning.

And strangely enough, the fourth person in the room was Breda. He hadn't uttered a single word since he walked in, causing Edward to believe that he was there only to observe; as ordered by the colonel, no doubt. He kept a steady expression, but even he couldn't hide the hint of sympathy that resided behind his dark eyes.

Edward blinked slowly, remembering that the stiff man in front of him was still waiting for a response. He wasn't going to give an answer either way, but with his mind fuzzy from lack of sleep and distracted by recent events, the question had escaped him.

"Uh, what'd you say?"

Douglas gave him a long, hard stare for several seconds as if that alone could get Ed to spill everything he was keeping to himself. But at last, his hand slipped from the table and he straightened his back.

"We're done for the day," he announced primarily to the soldiers, failing to completely conceal his wariness. Ed stifled a sneer, feeling quite accomplished for wearing the man so thin in only a few hours.

His interrogator was obviously restrained and was irritated by that fact. Something told him that his status as a state alchemist was the only thing keeping them from using more persuasive methods that might or might not have ended with a few broken fingers or something.

Before the teenager had time to consider standing up, he was roughly pulled from the chair and onto his feet by a stranger in black, then was quickly ushered out the door. The halls of Central Command were as empty as he had expected for a Saturday afternoon, but two more guards were stationed outside of the room. A few officers walked the halls, Ed noticed, as he glanced down in both directions. Just before he was pushed forward, he caught a glance of a familiar shock of black hair further down, looking rather distressed as he spoke to another blonde.

Edward's mind recognized the two as Mustang and Hawkeye just as he was forced to turn away from them. He wasn't sure if they saw him or not, but didn't care- that's what he told himself.

He was in no mood to talk to anyone anyway.

Especially _him_.

Ed paid no attention to the path he was dragged down until he was face to face with a cell within what felt like seconds. He glanced behind at the men who were escorting him as someone else unlocked the cell door. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but both Douglas and Breda were gone, leaving the other military policemen to shove him into the small, cold space and lock the gate behind him.

He staggered forward, then turned to glare at the brutes once he collected his balance, but the gesture was lost on them as they both turned away from him and disappeared around the corner.

For the first time since it happened, Edward was finally given time to himself and was allowed to truly stew on what had transpired within the past few hours. As soon as he arrived at Central Command, Ed was processed and then taken immediately to the interrogation session. At least they hadn't forced him to change into some ugly prison garb yet. Ed looked down at the annoying restraint that held his arms out in front of him at an uncomfortable angle, then up to the steel bars that trapped him there.

He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be looking at the outside side of a cell. He wasn't supposed to feel so hurt.

A flash of rage spiked as he struck the handcuffs against the bars and yelled "god dammit!" The vibration of the impact ran up his metal arm and his voice echoed down the quiet hall. Someone from around the corner ordered him to be quiet, but he paid no mind to it as he turned and sat down on the thin bed that was pushed against the side wall.

In spite of how much he wanted- needed- to get out, Edward deserved to remain in that dingy cell. For weeks now, part of him had asked for it; he wanted some kind of retribution or justice to be placed upon him for taking another man's life. But damn, he really wanted to be anywhere but here.

He wasn't cut out for an inactive life. Staying locked in a cell for years on end sounded like enough torture to send anyone out of their mind, and that wasn't to mention the fact that he still needed to find Alphonse. Nothing was allowed to stop him from achieving that goal. He had to do it. Al was waiting for him, but he went and got himself arrested!

No- Mustang got him arrested.

Mustang volunteered to put the handcuffs on Ed himself.

After he promised not to.

He promised...

And Ed believed him like a fool.

He lowers his gaze, absentmindedly eyeing the identification bracelet that was chained around his wrist. He was only currently in a jail cell because he had idiotically fallen for a pack of lies.

That's what he told himself, but... Mustang _wasn't_ lying.

It was impossible to mistake the regretful sorrow in the man's dark eyes as he approached and whispered a disheartened apology. No one- not even the colonel- was that talented of an actor. It had to have been honest.

But at the same time, Edward didn't care. He was angry and pissed and he didn't care. Screw Mustang. Ed was going to be angry if he wanted to; it's not like there was anything else to do in that damn cell.

The blond pushed himself back against the wall and brought his legs up to his body and growled as he was unable to relieve the simple desire to cross his arms.

He hit the back of his head against the wall as his irritation boiled over, but immediately regretted it as the new throb in his head only added to the existing migraine.

He was tired, his head hurt, he was locked in a cell, Al was still missing, and he was pissed.

He was just so... frustrated!

Edward wanted to thrash and break the bars down and hunt colonel Bastard down like a wild animal and give him a piece of his mind because, damn, it wasn't supposed to hurt this much!

He thought he was prepared for this disappointment. He told himself at the very beginning that if his choices turned around to bite him, he wouldn't let it get to him because he had no other choice. Mustang didn't give him any other choice. Ed tried to expect the knife in the back- prepare for it, because it was going to happen eventually. He thought he could just accept whatever was in store for him because there was no other alternative.

But somewhere along the way, his guard dropped.

No, that wasn't right.

He chose to drop his guard just as he chose to trust Mustang. Edward was swayed by the raw conviction in his sharp eyes that burned every time Ed showed him even a glimpse of the demons that hung over him like storm clouds.

But then fate proved to him once again that he couldn't trust adults, as their priorities were always one step above his own. And why shouldn't they be? It only made sense.

First Hohenheim, and now this.

And to think; for a moment there, Edward actually started to wonder, hope, believe that Mustang was able to fill the hole left by that blond bastard who Al still referred to as "dad." In the past, he thought that letting that hole remain would somehow make him stronger; that he was somehow better off with it there. That is, until he realized just how much he craved that sense of completeness. And somehow, Colonel Roy Mustang ended up being the person to make him realize that.

As if that deceitful man would ever want to take up the role of a father figure in anyone's life.

As if Edward even wanted that. Because obviously, he didn't... Maybe once when he was still stuck in that blissful illusion, but now...

_Stupid, stupid, stupid idiot._

Besides, he couldn't afford to let his thoughts wonder. Alphonse was his only priority.

And yet, memories of the past two weeks came flooding back, bringing a mix of wistful confusion and frustration along with them. So much has happened since he first found the note on his door, alerting him to Al's kidnapping. His mind reluctantly traveled through the days until he reached the present, then stopped as soon as the handcuffs were closed around his wrists. After that, all he could remember was seeing the pain that Mustang tried to eclipse with his usual mask of unreadable indifference, but being mentally unable to recognize it at the time. After that, the car ride to Central HQ, the processing and the hours of interrogation felt like a blur, muddled by his contradicting thoughts and the wariness that haunted him.

Through the chaos that spun around in his head, a single, persistent voice of reason urged him to accept that Mustang didn't have any other choice at the time.

Edward swiftly stepped on that voice and crammed it into the corner. He didn't want to listen to it. He didn't want to be reasoned with.

After everything that he had endured for the past few hours, days, weeks, years, he had every right to be angry.

Ed had the _right_ to yell and scream and curse at the world for being so broken because he was locked up, unable to fix it. Unable to try.

All he could truly do for the time being was wait.

The military was going to continue attempting to persuade answers out of him, but Ed was yet to decide the best course of action. Until he figured out what to do, he would remain mute and wait for something to happen.

Unless everything Mustang had said to him the past few weeks were nothing but lies, which he couldn't help but doubt, Edward knew that it was only a matter of time before the man worked up the nerve to approach him. Until that happened, he had an abundance of time to work out how he was going to proceed.

* * *

Roy was surprised by how empty his house felt when he finally returned home Saturday night. Just after Edward had started taking up his guest room, he figured he would have been eager to have the place to himself once more. But now, the emptiness just felt wrong.

Maybe it was because he knew Ed's belongings were still waiting for his return in the guest room.

Maybe it was because his last interaction with the boy was less than pleasant, to say the least. It left a sour taste in his mouth that would undoubtedly remain until he could speak to him once again, and hopefully clear things up.

The same exact thoughts crossed his mind regularly for the remainder of the weekend. On Sunday, Roy spent far too much time hovering between Ed's jail cell and the interrogation room, ensuring that one of his men were in that little white room every time a session started. He would have gone to observe personally, but his staff was more than capable of keeping guard just in case Douglas was driven to overstep his bounds and, god forbid, harm the kid.

From what had been reported back to him, there has been no progress. Edward remained completely silent, surprisingly enough. There was still no hard evidence against him, so it must have been difficult to trick him into defending himself. But after all he had seen, it was almost surprising that Douglas hadn't yet managed to guilt Ed into speaking. That seemed to be a popular approach, according to what his staff has relayed to him.

Depending on the topic, Edward was very susceptible to guilt. The death of Victor Tresler just so happened to be one of those topics. But then again, maybe his stubbornness to bend to the will of an interrogator who was clearly trying to trick him kept him from giving in to it.

But if Roy knew anything for certain, it was that Edward's devotion to his brother had to have been what was truly keeping his tongue still. He wouldn't say a word as long as he believed it would somehow interfere with his quest to find and rescue Alphonse.

Very impressive, but not surprising.

It didn't take long for Roy to decide to speak to Fullmetal, but all of his attempts thus far have been foiled quite easily, mostly due to bad timing. Or maybe he was just being watched. But regardless, he had yet to find the opportunity to talk to the kid without one of Douglas' men being within earshot.

Well, there was that, and the fact that images of Ed's expression just before he was carried away came to mind repetitively, and were always quick to deflate his confidence. He would likely never forget the damaged expression that he was targeted with that seemed to whisper _you betrayed me, and I won't forgive you._

It was possible that he was exaggerating the truth. Perhaps in his worry, his mind twisted the mental picture to make it worse than it really was. At that point, there was absolutely no way to know. His only option was the figure out a way to get a moment alone with the kid and see for himself.

But in spite of that, here he was, sitting behind his desk on a Monday morning, feeling entirely unprepared for the rest of the week.

As one could imagine, he was already in a great mood, thanks to the not-so-restful weekend, and the snow that greeted him upon leaving his house, which even had the decency to make him late for work.

When he stepped into the office with the majority of his staff watching him expectantly, Roy thought for a moment and this would finally be the day that Hawkeye would shoot him for being late yet again. But after she looked at him once, there was no death threat or judgmental glare, or anything besides understanding.

There was only one explanation as to why he was able to make it across his office without hearing the safety of a gun being switched off, or any snide remarks from his subordinates: they must have sensed the failure and guilt that radiated off of him like smoke.

There was scarcely a moment when he wasn't brooding over how badly he had let Edward down when he truly needed him most, or how all of this could have been avoided had he just made the right choice, whatever it was. Hiding the physical effects that these thoughts caused from his team was far from one of his top priorities.

Roy had updated the team on what happened over the weekend, but they still knew very few details overall. The Fullmetal Alchemist had been arrested for suspected murder and colonel Douglas and his men were not to be trusted alone with him.

The way they watched him quietly, waiting for something to trigger the inevitable conversation did not surprise him for a moment. When that trigger finally did come, it was thanks to Falman entering the office a few minutes after Roy had. Nor did he have to guess twice to figure out where the man had been. However, he did return sooner than expected.

Roy raised an eyebrow questioningly at the warrant officer.

"The interrogation scheduled for this morning was postponed, sir," he answered promptly.

Roy's immediate reaction was to wonder if they might just start the interrogation without letting them know, but he figured Falman wouldn't have left unless he knew for certain that there was nothing to worry about.

Havoc sighed through his teeth and stared at his desk intently. He looked impatient, as if he desperately wanted a cigarette but didn't want to risk getting kicked out of the office just yet.

"This isn't right," Havoc muttered and briefly pursed his lip.

Roy doubted anyone in that room would disagree.

The second lieutenant then looked up at his superior officer, swiftly pushing back against any hesitance that tried to interrupt him. "Where did they find him?"

He didn't answer right away, sparing a moment to consider how much to say. At last, he intertwined his fingers in front of him and replied with a hint of a scowl. "Douglas and I surrounded Fullmetal just north of Twenty Third Street," he said, spiting himself with his own word choice.

"Oh." Havoc spoke in a subdued tone as he and the others digested what Roy truly meant by that. Based on their expressions, none of them seemed to hold it against the colonel for arresting their coworker- their friend. But after so long, that was to be expected.

He knew Havoc wasn't asking about who had arrested the kid and probably wasn't even considering it, but they all had the right to know that Edward was imprisoned by Roy's own hands.

Surprisingly enough, it was Fuery who spoke up next. "So, what's going to happen now?"

Good question.

Roy had been asking himself the very same thing for two days now and was yet to find a decent answer.

"Whatever happens next depends entirely on Edward." And whether or not he decided to speak. Or rather, how long he could hold out without speaking. But either way, unless he found an alternative path somewhere, the colonel had very little influence over the situation, considering what was expected of him.

Roy had raised enough eyebrows as is with his little stunt on Saturday. Apparently, his refusal to let anyone else near Fullmetal and the hesitance that engulfed him once he held the handcuffs had not gone unnoticed. None of this was nearly enough to cause any trouble for him, especially considering Edward's capture seemed to have appeased Douglas enough to finally get him off his back, but he had to stay careful regardless.

"… Did he really do it?" Roy blinked and looked up at the young master sergeant from across the office. Fuery was looking down at his own desk as his question hung in the air, as if he was simply voicing his thoughts rather than expecting an answer.

But that was good, because Roy didn't have an answer. Edward did cause Tresler's death, but he was no murderer.

He inwardly questioned once again how a court martial would react to that. He revisited the idea of twisting the tale in their favor- explain that it was all in self-defense. It truly wasn't his fault, so it should not be too hard to convince others to see it that way as well. Was there really any need to mention the part about Edward's original intention? He could convince Ed to say something like "I was there when he died, but I didn't shoot him." It was worth some consideration, at least.

Roy briefly wondered if he should take this moment to further explain Ed's unique situation to his staff, as he recalled getting permission from the kid to do so. That moment was the first time since the arrest that Roy had been in the same room with his entire team present. Therefore, they had not had the chance to learn much, despite many of them sitting in on the questioning, per his orders. However, he easily decided to deal with it later, as other thoughts currently required his attention.

The topic of finding the right moment to talk to Ed was quick to return to him. Perhaps since the next interrogation session had been postponed, now could be the best opportunity he was going to get.

It was decided; he was going to go down there and talk to Ed. Roy couldn't quite say how the conversation was going to go and only had a vague plan of what he was going to say, but it wasn't fair to the kid to keep waiting any longer.

The colonel placed his hands firmly on the surface of his desk and pushed himself up. Several curious eyes were on him, but he didn't spare a moment to explain himself, besides offering a vague "be back later."

"Sir," Hawkeye started as he was crossing the office. He turned back at her once he reached the door. "Don't think I'm going to let you get out of doing your paperwork." __Good luck__ , her tone seemed to say behind the partially true threat.

Roy smiled as he pulled the door open. "Wouldn't dream of it." And with that, he was gone, marching down the halls of Central Command with a certainty that would allow absolutely nothing to interfere.

Several turns and some flights of stairs later, his eyes fell on the door at the end of the hall that would lead him directly into the base's jail. Despite all his courage and determination to sort things out with the blond, he could not easily ignore the pit of apprehension that threatened to take over.

No; he simply would not allow it.

But still… what if Edward wasn't going to forgive him? He had to realize that there was truly nothing else Roy could have done in that moment, but that didn't mean he had to forgive him for getting them into that situation in the first place.

He should have just trusted his gut. The colonel learned long ago to listen to those subtle signals that warned of danger, so what had changed? What was different?

Was Ed's presence somehow the variable that influenced his choices? He had no intention to blame the boy for what happened, but nothing else could explain why he would suddenly do something that had always been against his nature. He panicked because Edward's freedom was at risk.

Roy's desire to protect him ultimately put him into harm's way.

As perturbed as the notion made him feel, he had to ignore it at least for the time being. All of his focus needed to be dedicated to the impending conversation.

Roy stepped into the next hall and wordlessly walked past the desk that usually dealt with those who wished the visit the prisoners and reveled in the satisfaction when no one dared to stop him.

His dark, relentless stare was trained on the path ahead, paying no mind to the cells that passed him on either side. He already knew where Fullmetal was and had no need to waste time by diverting his attention.

He slowed his pace as the specific cell came into view. Roy quickly swallowed all signs of hesitation and moved to face the bars as he simultaneously planned out what he was going to say.

Edward was huddled in the corner of the thin, paper-like bed. His arms were hanging limply from his knees, which were pulled up to his chest. That infernal block of wood was still trapped around his wrists, undoubtedly refusing him any comfort.

At some point over the weekend, the kid had changed from wearing his multiple layers of black to the plain gray uniform designated for prisoners. The long sleeves hid his feet and would have covered his hands as well, had the handcuffs not been in the way. He nearly drowned in the basic outfit, making it abundantly clear that Edward Elric did not belong there.

This was the first time since the arrest that Roy managed to get more than a passing glance at the kid. Again, he was reminded that it was entirely his fault that the blond was there in the first place, and he had to somehow figure out a way to get him out.

Roy opened his mouth just as Ed noticed his presence. His golden eyes fell on him through his messy bangs and stilled the colonel's tongue. There were many different emotions clearly swirling in his gaze, but if Roy were to give his expression a single word, it would be contempt. His eyes were narrowed slightly and brow furrowed in what he saw to be a silent challenge.

He was half hoping for a sarcastic comment or an insult. Roy wasn't quite prepared for that cold, daring glare that he received instead.

He cleared his throat to try again.

"Colonel Mustang."

Roy clamped his mouth shut and refrained from letting his skyrocketing irritation show through as he recognized the voice that summoned him from down the hall. Edward turned his head to leer at the opposing wall as footsteps drew closer, and made a quiet sound that could have been compared to a scoff.

"What can I do for you, colonel Douglas?" Roy asked carefully as he pried his eyes away from his caged subordinate, and onto the man who helped put him there.

"I would like a word with you."

The alchemist just narrowly stopped himself from cursing under his breath, and nodded stiffly instead.

Douglas gestured to him away from the ears of the prisoners. After impulsively casting one more glance to the young blond in the cell, he moved to follow.

What right did Douglas have to interrupt him? __Oblivious bastard__.

Once the two colonels were well out of earshot, Douglas got to his point as rigidly as always.

"I noticed you haven't detained Alexander Riece yet. Was he not harboring the Fullmetal Alchemist?" He was quick to assume, apparently.

Douglas had already mentioned his interest in that man's involvement, but was clearly too preoccupied with dealing with Edward to actually look into it himself. Luckily, Roy had anticipated this.

He had considered making up some story about how someone else was actually safeguarding the young alchemist and Alexander was only a key in finding that out, but he didn't want to give the other colonel any reason to look deeper into it.

His best bet was to draw attention away from the ex-police officer and be as vague as possible.

"I have determined that Alexander Riece is of no consequence," Roy explained plainly with a disinterested tone. "I caught word that he may have seen Fullmetal loitering around the area but neglected to fill out a proper report." That was a valid reason to have his old file on his desk. Valid enough, anyway.

"… I see," the severe man answered after a short pause.

"Is that all?"

"No." Roy was mildly surprised by his quick answer but kept his expression natural. Perhaps Douglas had some other purpose for distracting him, other than to simply waste his time.

The other colonel cleared his throat. "It appears I was incorrect about my suspicions of you. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience." An acknowledgment was probably the closest thing Roy would get to an honest apology from him, as he sensed little to no sincerity in his tone. But of course, that meant less than nothing in light of his recent actions. Breaking into Roy's house, stealing from his desk, arresting his subordinate- or rather, inadvertently forcing Roy to arrest him...

But was anything going to happen to him because of that? No, of course not. Douglas would get off scot-free despite what he had done, and would even get praised for capturing the elusive Fullmetal Alchemist.

No one ever claimed that the world was just.

"Now that Fullmetal has been apprehended, we can switch our efforts to getting answers out of him."

Roy put on his best impression of someone who actually agreed with what was being said to him. But before he could utter a word in response, Douglas continued.

"Speaking of which, I plan on bringing him in for questioning again. Perhaps you should consider joining this time. You might have a better chance of getting your subordinate to cooperate than I have."

It was only a matter of time, he supposed as he withheld a sigh. He had no reason to say no to the offer, and doing so would only serve to make him feel more like a coward. Besides, Roy doubted Falman would mind if he took his place. He had to face Edward one way or another, so it might as well be from under a bright light and on the opposite side of a table.

Except he really didn't want to. He desperately didn't want to appear in front of Ed as an interrogator, but Douglas would only draw suspicion if he avoided the kid. He had to continue this front, or else every sacrifice would have been made for naught.

"I might as well. When will the session begin?"

"Immediately."

"… __Great__."


	20. Chapter 20

 The interrogation did not go as expected.

Roy had heard countless times from countless sources that Edward had adopted the silent treatment and held onto it without failure. In spite of that knowledge, he was still surprised to see the blond keep his mouth shut. Ed throwing insults and clever quips had become so natural after being in his company for years. A silent Edward was not a normal Edward.

When the colonel first stepped into the room after Ed had already been situated in the chair at the other end of the table, the kid only stared at him wide eyed for a moment before turning away, as if he had flipped off the switch that allowed him to portray his thoughts. Before then, Roy wouldn't have thought it possible.

He was admittedly nervous and was somewhat dreading the meeting since Douglas _graciously_ invited him to partake, but it was overall rather uneventful. But that wasn't to say it was easy.

And that was why Roy was currently sitting at a bar counter, hunched forward with a glass of scotch held loosely in his hand.

Hughes had successfully persuaded him out of the house again and he was really in no state of mind to turn it down. He didn't particularly want to spend the remainder of the night alone in his empty house anyway. It only served to remind him of his most recent mistakes.

Roy lifted the small glass to his lips, reveling in the golden liquid that burned down his throat. He then lowered it back onto the counter with a little more force than necessarily, idly eyeing how the ice cubes reflected the dim lights that filled the bar.

"I just don't know what to do, Hughes," he groaned without looking at the man who sat at his right.

This was pretty much how it always went when Roy had something heavy on his mind; they would talk about nonsense such as his disdain for the weather or Maes would rant about his family until he had enough alcohol in his system to get to the root of the problem.

At this point, it didn't take a genius to know he was talking about Ed's arrest. He knew Hughes wasn't too happy to hear that he had gotten the kid imprisoned but saved himself the lecture when he saw just how much Roy had already berated himself for it.

The colonel felt the sympathetic look that was aimed towards him but kept his eyes plastered on the half empty glass.

"He's still blames you?" Maes asked, propping an elbow on the counter as he looked at the alchemist, ignoring his own drink.

"Yeah... You should have seen him; he wouldn't even look at me for the most part. And when he did-" Roy just barely refrained from visibly shuddering at the thought.

He still clearly remembered it. It was only after Douglas had again failed to convince any words out of the kid did he step back and make room for Roy. The way Edward decisively glared at Roy from across the interrogation table had burned itself into his mind. It was an expression of pure loathing and distrust- one that he had actively tried to avoid ever seeing again. Not just for his own sake, but for Ed's as well.

Looking at him _burned._ It mercilessly reopened the pit that was formed when he was forced to bind Edward's arms in the handcuffs, but it had somehow gotten deeper and more hollow as time progressed. It felt like someone had dug their fingers into an open wound, only to make it much worse.

Roy had no choice but to at least pretend to ignore the black hole that formed inside his gut and carry on as he would to any other nameless prisoner that needed to be questioned.

He asked the kid multiple questions that were to be expected from someone in his position; some he already knew the answer to, some he didn't. He was sure that Douglas had already covered all of them, but persisted anyway. He tried to persuade the kid in almost any way that came to mind, but was always sure not to sound too desperate.

He inwardly hoped that Edward knew that he didn't really want him to speak even as he ordered, begged, and even threatened him to. It was easy to appear angered by Ed's silence, because he was fuming for the entirety of the session. He was furious at himself, which was only multiplied when he faced the kid. He could only hope that Edward knew the difference.

But somehow, he was terrified that that was asking too much. The young alchemist looked half dead; as if he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep since he had arrived. That knowledge only served to further infuriate the colonel.

He felt absolutely disgusting. He was a disgrace of a commanding officer.

"I'm pathetic," he muttered and rubbed a hand over his tired face, only vaguely aware that Hughes was speaking while he was lost in his cycling memories.

Maes watched him for a moment, the patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. "Come on Roy, y-"

The alchemist waved away his comfort. "It's my job to look out for him, Maes. And I- I messed up."

"You'll find some way through this." Roy paused as his intoxicated mind just barely noticed the certainty in his friend's voice. Roy glanced at him for a moment, studied his serious expression, then took another gulp of his drink.

"Easy for you to say," the slurred without any thought. "You didn't have to look at him straight in the eyes and demand that he spill everything. It was hard enough the first time, and I just-" Roy paused, questioning why he felt like he just said something he shouldn't have.

"... Roy?" Hughes asked, noting his perplexed expression as he stared at nothing.

The colonel nodded to himself once he realized that he had just openly referred to one of his many conversations with the kid who's whereabouts was not supposed to be known. But it was just to Maes, so he shrugged off the concern. Besides, Edward said... something about that. His foggy mind was drawing a blank, but he knew there was no harm. Besides, it certainly didn't matter now that the blond was currently sitting in a cell...

Roy lolled his head to the side and considered his friend for a moment.

"You have it all figured out, don't you?"

Hughes blinked as he was forced to make the mental jump after Roy. Thankfully, he wasn't as intoxicated as he was, so doing so wasn't much of a chore judging by the crooked smile and the slight shrug that followed just a moment later.

"I may have a pretty good guess."

"Figures," Roy scoffed lightly as his gaze fell to the glass of alcohol in front of him. Ignoring the buzz of voices that filled the bar, he lazily swished the ice cubes around the base of the glass. "Did you guess that Edward had been staying at my house the entire time?"

Hughes tilted his head in thought, but had already surprised Roy but not appearing visibly shocked by the revelation. "It crossed my mind."

"What?" Roy sat up straight and stared at the man incredulously. " _How?_ Even I never thought that I'd let Fullmetal anywhere near my house!"

"And yet you did," Hughes replied with a knowing grin. He then nudged Roy on the arm and his smile widened. "I always knew you didn't dislike him as much as you tried to let on."

Roy's visage dropped into a halfhearted glare as his mind tried to find a witty comeback, but came out lacking. "Shut up," he barked, then took another gulp of his drink- or at least tried to, but he nearly choked on an ice cube instead. He held the glass up in front of his face, only now realizing that he had already finished it off.

"Maybe you've had enough to drink," the lieutenant colonel suggested, not bothering to hide his mild amusement.

He didn't give the man a response right away, but mentally decided that he would have at least one more, even if he had to fight through his friend in order to do it.

The two fell into a comfortable silence. Or at least it would have been comfortable, had Roy been paying any attention. But instead, he had fallen deep back into the whirlpool of his own brain.

Then suddenly, he was back in the small interrogation room with Douglas standing critically in the corner and Edward sitting across the table, looking twice as small as he drowned in the gray uniform, his hair in knots, and his arms bound together.

He stared at Roy with his incredibly heavy eyes narrowed and mouth tilted into a frown. He was putting up a strong front; using his anger and resentment towards the colonel to hide the fear and uncertainty that threatened to show through his mask.

Watching his expression caused him to feel something tighten in his chest and he had to fight to keep his expression neutral, all because of just how much he could relate. He too was putting up a strong front. Except when Edward was only trying to keep his mouth shut, Roy had to speak. He had to demand answers he honestly didn't want to hear and talk with a mindset that made him feel physically ill. He had to pretend like he thought Fullmetal was guilty because doing any less would contrast with the cold exterior of a superior officer that he had been crafting for so long.

Again, he was given no choice in the matter. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how many heartstrings were ripped in the process, he had to pretend like the past two weeks he spent with the kid never happened.

And _damn,_ it hurt.

It hurt because he knew his words hurt Ed. Even if the kid knew for certain that Roy didn't mean any of it, even if Roy had been able to tell him that to his face, hearing such things would always hurt. As much as he wanted to look away, Roy couldn't miss the way Fullmetal's tired eyes twitched or how he set his jaw and bit his lip, as if he desperately wanted to talk back, but somehow managed to refrain.

Roy couldn't help but wonder what he would have said.

Was he going to admit everything when Roy asked if he killed Victor Tresler? Did he want to call him a bastard when he asked if he felt guilty or insinuated that he _should_?

Roy would have deserved it.

How could he have said such things to the boy? He had been so incredibly cruel all because he was worried about his job. Was it worth it? Was it _not_ worth it? But he knew that if he went easy on the kid, Douglas would only take charge or worse. The other colonel felt the need to comment once at the beginning, basically telling Roy that he needed to push harder.

"He must hate me."

He hadn't realized that he spoke aloud until he felt a hand rest on his shoulder again.

"Ed is a smart kid, Roy. He probably already knows that there was nothing else you could have done. Have some faith in him."

Roy glanced at him in the corner of his eye, somehow lacking the energy to so much as turn his head. "Faith in _him?_ I'm the one who insisted he should trust me. I told him to have faith in me, but then I go and do this." He rested his elbow on the counter and dropped his head onto his open hand, mumbling his speech slightly.

"And he did trust you, didn't he? Now you need to return the favor."

Roy leered at the man, but said nothing. He knew Maes was only guessing; there was no way for him to know that he actually successfully gained Edward's trust, or to what extent. But he was always quite perceptive, so he knew there was no point in calling him out on it. All of Hughes' guesses were based on countless observations.

But regardless.

Return the favor? He had already failed at that by causing Ed to get arrested. But then again, he supposed that was his friend's entire point. He needed to make it up to him by trusting that he wouldn't hate Roy forever? The buzz in his head prevented him from deciding if that made any sense at all, but Hughes was usually pretty good at stuff like this; much better than Roy anyway.

Still though, he was unsure.

"Listen Roy," Hughes began, prompting him to look away from the nothing in front of him with a slight squeeze on his shoulder before dropping his hand. "You're probably too drunk to understand what I'm saying," he said with a smile.

Roy did not deny it.

"All I'm saying is, there is nothing for you to gain by beating yourself up like this. Maybe things could have been different, but what's done is done. You said it yourself; you didn't have any other choice but to arrest him. Edward won't blame you forever, alright? It's now up to you to set things straight. When I tell you to have some faith in him, I'm saying that you can't let your fear of him holding this against you stop you from doing what needs to be done."

Roy blinked, then dropped his gaze back down to the warm wooden surface of the counter. Hughes was right. Even through the haze of his handicapped brain, he still felt a flicker of determination. However, the wind was swiftly taken out of his sails as a new thought arose:

"I don't even know what needs to be done," he admitted under his breath. "I'll drop by tomorrow and talk to him- straighten things out. But other than that..." Roy set his jaw in thought. "It's not like I can break him out. Can't do much if they decide to take him to court either."

Hughes smiled sadly at him. "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"How reassuring," the colonel replied sarcastically, but they both knew he honestly meant it. It was reassuring, because he knew Maes meant what he said as well. As long as he had other people standing behind him, supporting him, Roy felt invisible.

"That's what I'm here for," his friend beamed, as if the man was able to read his thoughts.

Roy closed his eyes for a moment and smiled thinly, feeling a wave of tiredness fall over him. They would probably head out soon, given they both had to wake up early for work the next morning. Perhaps he didn't need to get one more drink after all. He already felt marginally lighter, even without it.

* * *

Edward was extremely tired.

No, not tired- he was beyond tired. His body ached with a deep weariness that made his eyes feel heavy and he felt an invisible pressure wrap tightly around his head. He craved sleep, knowing it was the only cure and escape from this dull pain, but his eyes refused to remain closed. Ed's mind was racing at an uncontrollable pace and had not settled down once since the interrogation yesterday. But despite the rush of activity he felt inside his head, he was not able to make sense of very many thoughts. There was a distinct lack of coherence, as if half of his brain had disconnected itself solely to cripple him.

This only added to his ever-growing irritation. It didn't make sense. Before, he had been severed from sleep because he always felt far too unsafe to drop his guard for a prolonged amount of time, and because it made him feel like he was wasting his time when he could have been looking for Al. But now that he was locked behind a row of metal bars, what reason was there to keep himself awake?

He was trapped there against his will, and no amount of fretting would change that; therefor, Edward should have been able to accept that and fall asleep. Furthermore, he was in no danger there. No one except the guards had the power to get into the cell, and they had no reason to. They only ever opened to gate to bring him out for more tedious interrogation sessions, but those were always spaced out from each other, giving him plenty of time to rest.

He honestly thought he had the whole _sleep deprivation_ thing behind him. Just as he was finally recovering from it, his barely established and temporarily life had to get flipped upside down once again and he was thrown back into the worst of it. He even started to hear voices and see things again- shadows occasionally danced across his vision, mocking him. And that's not the mention the countless times he had managed to trip over his own feet.

That is why when the barred door to his cell opened up with a shrill squeak and he saw a familiar State Alchemist standing in the frame, he was quick to brush it off as another hallucination and looked away with a disinterested scoff.

It took him a moment to remember that his hallucinations tended to disappear when he noticed them, and they were not usually that clear.

They also rarely spoke.

"We need to talk, Fullmetal... I'm not here to make any excuses, but I realize you're upset with me and I want to make it right."

Edward turned his eyes to Mustang just as he realized that it was the actual man standing before him, and not his mind playing tricks. He left the gate slightly ajar behind him and he stepped inside the small cell, looking down calmly at Ed as he sat on the ground in the corner.

Slowly, Edward pulled himself to his feet with the assistance of the concrete wall, and settled a mistrustful glare on the man. He lacked the mentality at the moment to think clearly, so he instead decided to wing it, only focusing on the few feelings in the tangles of his mind that he was actually able to understand- none in which were particularly positive.

"If you wanna make it right, then get me out of here," Edward growled, well aware that he was asking the impossible.

"If I could, I would do it in a heartbeat," Mustang replied quickly- far too quickly than Ed had anticipated.

The blond didn't respond. He stared at the Colonel as if he could somehow read what the man was thinking. But even if he could, he still wouldn't know if he could trust what he had learned. Could he dare to believe the man's words? He sounded earnest, but what did Ed really know anyway?

Flashes of the day before came to mind, nearly staggering him with their impact. He clearly remembered Mustang slamming a hand on the table, yelling "damn it Fullmetal, just answer the questions!" He couldn't for the life of him figure out if the Colonel was putting up an act, or honestly meant it. He wanted to believe it was the former, but his doubt acted as a sturdy roadblock.

Edward couldn't discern much in his mindset, but he knew that rage was real. The man's hands trembled with anger, but something was off about it. However, there was no way to know. Ed didn't know what Mustang was thinking years ago, during the interrogation, or right now.

Deep down, he understood that Mustang was not at fault for what had happened and that quiet voice of reason continued to insist that he was simply putting up an act during the questioning. Although, he had been trapped in that cell for days now, given nothing else to do but cast blame onto himself and others. Edward was generally an expressive person, but he had no outlet for his conflicting thoughts and emotions since he got arrested. It was boiling over and he was quickly losing control, now that he knew every word and action wasn't going to be recorded, like it was during the questioning.

"So then what do you want?" Edward asked spitefully. "Gonna ask me more questions about Tresler's death? Still wanna know if I regret it? Will you just threaten to let me rot in a prison if I don't answer?"

Mustang pursed his lip for a moment and the teenager just barely caught the pained twitch of is eyes before it was covered up. "You know I didn't mean any of that."

"Do I?!" he snapped. "I don't know what to believe anymore. I thought I knew I'd never end up in a jail cell, but here I am!" He pulled on the restraints around his wrists as if to gesture to his surroundings.

"You won't be here for long, Ed. I promise you that."

"Oh, you _promise,_ " he mocked, rolling his eyes and staring at the wall for a moment, gritting his teeth together. "I can't take many more of these promises, Mustang."

There was no immediate response, forcing Edward to look up at him again out of curiosity. But of course, he couldn't quite read the man's carefully crafted expression.

"I know," he finally replied, his voice subdued with an unseen sadness. "I'm sorry for putting you through this. I'm doing what I can."

Edward shook his head, effectively breaking the brief eye contact that he couldn't bare to keep. "Just get out of here, Mustang. I don't wanna hear it."

"Ed, I'm not-" He stopped listening when Mustang took a step closer, not appearing the least bit threatening. However, he failed to translate the picture he saw correctly and an irrational instinct swiftly took charge.

The blond took a step back just as the Colonel moved closer, slightly faster than necessary. His foot slipped from underneath him, or maybe he tripped on the leg of the bed- the world began to spin around him far too quickly for him to discern the difference. Before he knew it, Ed had tripped back to the ground with an undignified _huff_.

The room twirled in circles endlessly and his head rattled from the sudden, jolting movement. He couldn't think clearly. When Ed opened his eyes, he didn't understand what he was looking at.

Mustang had lowered himself in front of the kid, who was too blinded by adrenaline to fully recognize the concern laced on his visage. Being in such close proximity of the Colonel pulled Edward's consciousness back to alley where wooden handcuffs were locked around his wrists, where he lost his freedom, and his dwindling hope of finding Al further plummeted.

No, he couldn't just sit back and watch it happen. He had to fight back.

So he lashed out.

Everything moved too quickly for him to catch what he had done. Mustang staggered backwards slightly, alarm etched into his face as he covered his cheek with his hand. Edward blinked in confusion at his reaction, returning to the present.

What just happened? What did he just do?

He didn't feel his hands make contact with anything when he mindlessly attacked, and yet... Realization was slow to follow, but when it did, it winded him and left him breathless as he stared up at the Colonel in horror, which only escalate when the man pulled his hand away, allowing Ed to catch a glimpse of smeared blood on his skin.

Mustang then glanced down at the kid, his face devoid of any anger or blame. He fought to find the right words for a moment. "Ed, I-"

"Go."

"... What?"

Edward blinked, feeling just as perplexed as the Colonel look. Seconds passed before he understood what he had impulsively said through the chaos that reined free in his mind. He just wanted Mustang to leave, certain that he would break down if he had to look at the man any longer as guilt began to make its way to the surface.

"Go away," he breathed, staring wide-eyed at the ground between them. Ed brought his legs up closer to himself, wanting so badly to fold his arms. He hated the pathetic weakness evident in his voice, but lacked the power to control it. "Please."

Mustang said and did nothing for several long seconds. He eventually brought his hand back up to his cheek, again wiping the escaping blood away with his wrist before it could drip down his face. Edward couldn't bring himself to look up and see how bad the wound was, terrified that he would see something worse than he expected.

The Colonel shifted his weight as he simultaneously weighed his options, as though he was considering filling out Edward's request. But just as the blond began to think so, Mustang's face hardened with determination.

"No," he stated firmly, causing Ed to furrow his brow. "I'm not leaving."

"Don't you get it!?" Edward growled, unsure where the energy in his voice came from. "I don't want you here!"

He forcefully attempted to cover up the regret that was quickly rising with anger. Anger was an easier emotion to deal with. Humans were known for being better at pointing fingers at others than themselves, so it was only natural.

"I'm not going to leave you alone again!" Mustang snapped with a sense of finality in his voice that silenced Ed.

The kid scowled and looked away. "Stubborn bastard," he breathed hollowly.

It would have been so much simpler if the Colonel would just leave. Edward could handle facing the reality of his actions and blaming himself when he was alone just fine; he did it all the time, especially lately. But if the man remained, then he would have no choice but to eventually look up at the wound he had inflicted and show some kind of reaction. He couldn't just ignore it. He had to face it head on. Ed knew he was a coward for not wanting to, but that knowledge was nothing new to him.

"You really think I'm going to leave you alone to wallow in your own self-pity _again_? I've already made that mistake far too many times," Mustang announced with a strength in his voice that made it painfully clear that he wasn't going to waver.

Edward kept his golden eyes targeted on the ground, twitching uncomfortably when the man knelt down in front of him. He felt his gaze on him and persistently fought the unseen force that tried to pull his focus upwards.

"You don't have to forgive me. But you must know that I'm not trying to trick you. I will do everything in my power to keep you out of prison and I will ensure that this is only temporary. Do you understand?"

Edward still did not look at him and found himself unable to give an answer. His efforts were distracted by sensing something familiar in the man's words, but he struggled to place how and why.

He was jolted out of his discombobulated thoughts when he saw a flash of movement and two hands landed on his shoulders, physically forcing him to look straight ahead and at the perpetrator. He stared at Mustang, who looked back with a steeled, resolute expression. There was a small cut on his left cheek, that must have been caused by the corner of the handcuffs. Edward gaped slightly, thankful that the cut wasn't nearly as bad as he had expected.

"Do you understand?" he asked again, slowly articulating each word to its fullest as he shook the kid slightly to ensure that he had his attention.

Ed's mind went blank, occupied only by yet another memory. When he blindly walked in front of traffic, he was pulled back and asked that very same question. Back then, he was confused by Mustang's apparent anger at him, but it didn't take long for understanding to sink in. Mustang was angry at him because he cared. And he cared because... because...

"Yeah," he eventually muttered, clueless to what kind of expression he was giving the man. As he spoke, Ed managed to temporarily forget about the betrayal he felt when he was handcuffed by the Colonel as well as the confusion that accompanied thoughts of the latest interrogation session. None of it seemed to matter. Mustang said nothing, but continued to bore into him silently as if he could hear every scrambled thought that coursed through his head.

At last, he released the boy's shoulders and plopped himself on the ground beside him, looking across the cell to the metal bars. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes for slightly longer than a standard blink.

"Good," the Colonel replied lightly, allowing Ed to almost _hear_ the weights being lifted off of him.

The blond continued to stare holes into the ground with his legs pulled up and his arms hanging off of his knees. He honestly had to doubt his current ability to fully comprehend what he had just agreed to. But regardless, he felt like something had just been settled. Noting the silence that had fallen over them, Ed took the opportunity to sort it out.

He suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be upset with the Colonel. But it probably about time he accept that Mustang was not the one at fault. He didn't see any way he could have gotten out of getting arrested so many days ago, so perhaps he didn't need to blame himself either. Blame wouldn't get him out. He had resorted to it in a last-ditch attempt to make him feel better- to save himself some sanity as it felt it slowly drip away. But if anything, he had only increased his struggled by dwelling on it nearly to the point of obsession.

Edward glanced up at the older alchemist next to him, then flinched away when he caught sight of the small cut. It was unlikely that it hurt too much and surely wouldn't take long to heal, but the fact that he had done it at all spoke volumes. The worst part was that Mustang didn't seem to care about that.

He felt himself scowl, disgusted by how easy it was for him to lose his grasp on reality when he hadn't gotten any sleep for several days in a row. Again, he questioned why Mustang had any faith in him whatsoever.

"... Sorry," Ed said under his breath, dropping his gaze once more. "For that... And everything."

Mustang turned his head towards him. "Water under the bridge." Ed could basically hear the small smile in his voice. "Besides, this doesn't hurt. Don't worry about it."

The teenager's face warped with discontent. "What the hell," he muttered to himself. "I've tried to push you away so many times now, but you just keep coming back." He was tempted to plainly ask _why,_ but he was certain Mustang had already answered that countless times before.

"It's going to take more than that to get rid of me," he replied easily. "It seems I'm just as stubborn as you are."

"Maybe more so, since you're still here."

To his surprise, Mustang chuckled in response besides him. As though it were infectious, Ed struggled and failed to keep his lips from twitching into a weak smile.

He didn't want to just move on as if everything was okay, simply because it seemed strange to do so. And yet, it seemed so easy. It was suddenly far too easy of a task to laugh alongside his superior officer as if they weren't sitting on the cold, hard ground of a cell, uncertain of the impending future.

The laughter slowly died, replaced by a soft silence once more. However, it was short-lived. Mustang cleared his throat as he looked ahead at nothing in particularity, suddenly taking on a more business-like tone.

"These interrogations will most likely continue until something changes." His face darkened for a moment. "Or until they decide to switch methods."

"Switch methods? Like what?" The idea of them breaking his fingers to make him talk came to mind.

Mustang fractionally shook his head. "I'm not sure, and I have no desire to find out. But they'll eventually get tired of doing the same thing if they don't see any results."

"So... What should I do?"

The older man sat on the question for a moment before folding his arms and looking at the kid in the corner of his eye. "Have you considered lying?"

"Lying?" Edward echoed, already frowning at the idea. He always tried to be as honest as possible, to the point of becoming brutally honest, which was fairly easy when lying only served to make him feel uncomfortable. Of course the idea had crossed his mind, but it wasn't the most favorable choice. However, his options were very few.

Mustang nodded, pondering the idea more over for himself. "There weren't any witnesses; no one to speak up against you."

"I dunno... Al says I'm a bad liar."

The Colonel scoffed in amusement. "I don't doubt that."

Edward sent him a weak, halfhearted glare, though he wasn't particularly sure why he felt the need to.

The alchemist opened his mouth to say something that was undoubtedly going to be another witty retort, but his eyes snapped towards the entrance to the cell as he closed his mouth. Following his gaze, Edward saw Lieutenant Hawkeye leaning in from view around the wall.

"Sir, you're out of time."

Mustang cursed under his breath, then turned his attention back to the blond. "The guards must be coming back now. I need to get going," he explained as he heaved himself up to his feet. Ed stood up as well but remained in the corner with his shackled arms hanging awkwardly in front of him, watching mutely as the man turned his back to him and moved towards the cell door and pulled it open for him to walk through.

"Uh, wait," Ed spat out impulsively. When Mustang turned around, he had to scramble to remind himself why he spoke up. "Look, I- uh, I know that you didn't have any other choice. Back then... And uh... I would have done the same thing. Not that I _would_. Ah, I mean, I _would_ if I _had to_ , like you had to, so- what I mean is, uhhh-"

"I get it, kid." Mustang put a stop to his stuttering with an amused and amiable smile placed comfortably on his overall tired expression.

Edward lowered his shoulders in relief of being saved from that train wreck. "Okay... Good."

Mustang stepped out into the hall, then pulled a crowded key ring out of his pocket and locked the door. Ed had to wonder where and how he got the key to the cell in the first place but decided to ask for that story another day.

"I'll be back soon, hopefully with good news," the officer said through the bars. He was about to step away, but then stopped himself short. "You're going to be fine, Ed. So try to get some rest, alright?"

Ed simply nodded, feeling quite unsure as to how to feel at the moment. Even after all was said and done, Mustang was still nagging him about getting enough sleep. Usually, he would have expected himself to be annoyed by the concept, but somehow, there was something comforting about it instead; a simple reminder that the past few weeks had not been a lie.

It appeared as if things were looking marginally better, but he was hesitant to let himself marvel at the almost optimistic feeling that tried to creep up on him. It couldn't be that easy. He was still trapped in a cell, and he still felt a sharp pang of guilt when he eyed the thin red line on Mustang's cheek.

But he knew Mustang's proclamation that he would not leave Ed alone still stood. In the past, he had fled or forced the man to leave when he was upset and would ultimately make things worse for himself. This time, Mustang only moved towards the exit after they managed to talk things out. So when the two soldiers waved goodbye and stepped out from view, the lonely sense of abandonment and desertion that had loomed over him since the arrest did not return.


	21. Chapter 21

Alphonse was getting frustrated and it was not because he had been sitting in one spot inside a dirty, cramped, rat infested basement for what had to have been weeks now. That was a part of it, of course, but the factor that was chipping away at his usually sturdy composure was Riece. To be more specific, it was the way he suddenly decided to use nearly all of his time by personally keeping an eye on Al, allowing him almost no opportunities to work on the transmutation circle that was obscured from view behind his back.

He couldn't imagine what had prompted it, but his captor went from checking up on the kid once or twice every few hours at the most, to spending the vast majority of each day in the basement. He occasionally left for a few hours at a time but Alphonse had no way of knowing if he left the building all together, or if he was just sleeping.

Knowing where exactly where Riece was as often as possible was in fact very important, Al recently discovered. He was surprised he hadn't realized it sooner, but it appeared that the kidnapper was able to hear the scratching on the wall from upstairs. The alchemist knew he should have noticed sooner, but perhaps the lack of stimulation was dulling his mind or something. He had considered just how possible death by boredom really was at times, after all.

Not long after Alphonse first started on his latest attempt to create a fully functioning transmutation circle, only a few minutes had passed before he heard a flurry of footsteps trekking down the staircase. The coincidental timing alerted him to Riece's suspicions, so he was quick to scratch out the small line he had created with the edge of one of his dulled spikes just before the man entered the basement and examined Al's surroundings.

Thankfully, he didn't deem anything out of order, but the young alchemist was much more careful about when he worked on it after that. Once Riece would leave him alone for a few hours, he would chip away at it slowly to test the waters. When he got such a chance, he rarely heard any response upstairs, so he figured his captor was indeed sleeping or elsewhere completely. However, it was a rare occurrence.

At the rate he was going, it was proving difficult to predict when he would have the circle completed. He had only about a half of it done and was making very slow progress. The circle itself wasn't terribly complex, but it did requite extra details since he wanted the energy to be directed out towards him, rather than on the surface it was drawn onto. If it continued like this, he probably would not be able to make his escape attempt for a few more days.

The fact that he struggled to even see what he was doing didn't help. Without legs, turning himself around to get a good view was quite challenging, not to mention risky. Besides that, his helmet wasn't able to turn enough to face the circle completely, which forced him to be more careful, and therefore slower, than before.

As of late, Riece had been coming across as an overly optimistic person who had lost all of his friends without realizing it. He would pull up a chair in the basement and try to coax Al into talking to him for hours at a time, unfazed by how clear the kid made it that he didn't want to be anywhere near him. He could only assume that something must have happened to make the man so especially happy, but he couldn't say what it was. But whatever the case, Al was certain that it could only mean bad news for him and his brother.

That is what he was expecting, and that is what he received when his captor returned once again, looking like a child who was too excited about something to properly contain it. He strolled in with freshly pressed clothing and a smile that might had been infectious, had Al not known that it's owner was a psychopath.

"Hello Alphonse," he greeted as he pulled up a chair, sensibly keeping himself a few feet away from the suit of armor. "How are you feeling today?"

Al made a sound that resembled a wary sigh. He had long since grown tired of the man's infuriating mind games.

"Same as last time," he replied flatly. Remaining silent only encouraged the man to keep talking, and giving a decent answer also encouraged him to keep talking. There was no way to win.

"Ah, but that's what you have been saying for days now. I will just assume that your last real answer is still valid. Which means, you're feeling 'annoyed.' Understandable. But you know, it isn't healthy to remain in such a state for a prolonged amount of time."

Alphonse didn't respond that time.

After a moment, Riece chuckled to himself and shifted his weight on the old wooden chair across from the young alchemist.

"The silent treatment again? I would advise against doing so, since I have some interesting news for you," he explained, eyes sparkling with an excited anticipation.

Oh great. More news, Al thought solemnly. He knew it was nothing good, considering the last piece of information Riece had given him was that his brother was going to kill Colonel Mustang. Since that was clearly nothing more than a pack of lies, he knew better than to worry about whatever he was going to be told this time.

The man shifted again and pulled out a folded newspaper from his back pocket, then proceeded to open it up. He then eyed Alphonse over the edge of the paper.

"Edward has been quite busy, it seems," he said lightly. "Wouldn't you like to know what has happened?"

Al would have glared at him if he was able to. "No, I don't. You're only going to lie to me again. I can't trust anything you say."

From needing help looking for his lost daughter, to accusing Ed of murder: nothing Riece said could ever have been true.

"But can you trust what the newspaper says?" he asked, quirking a brow and gesturing to the paper in his hands.

The conversation about Ed being told to kill Mustang still rang clearly in his mind. It couldn't be about that, right? Riece wasn't about to tell him that the colonel was found dead, right? No, of course not. That was impossible. He needed to stay strong. He couldn't allow himself to be overtaken by doubt; especially in regards to Ed. He would never doubt is older brother. Never.

"This has nothing to do with Roy Mustang, if that's what you're worried about," he added, having somehow noticed Al's concern and read his mind.

That quelled some of his worries, but he remained wary. Slowly, Al dropped his soulfire gaze back on the captor. "You're going to tell me whether I want to know or not."

Riece's smile widened. "Right you are," he replied cheerfully, once again failing to act like a typical kidnapper. Without waiting for reaction from the kid, he crossed his legs and shook the paper once in his hands to straighten it out. He then cleared his throat and began to read aloud.

"Hero of the People arrested for suspected murder," he read the headline, glancing back at Alphonse for a moment, who was now frozen stiff. "The Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric, was arrested by the military Saturday, November seventh. He was apprehended by colonel Henry Douglas of the military police and the Flame Alchemist, Colonel Roy Mustang. Neither officers were available for comment."

Ed was arrested... by Colonel Mustang...?

And just after he was supposedly told to kill him...

There was no way that his brother actually attempted to take the life of his superior officer. It simply wasn't possible. No matter how Al looked at it, there was just no way...

Even if Riece was holding Al's life above his head... Right?  _Right?!_

It had to have been untrue. It had to be another lie. It had to.

_Please, please, please, be a lie._

Maybe he was just missing something. It was possible that Edward was falsely arrested for the first death- Al would much rather believe that.

But then why was Mustang of all people the one to bring him in? He knew the two state alchemists had a rather difficult relationship, but he was certain that the colonel was far more likely to help Edward in secret than to arrest him for murder. Surely the man doubted Ed's involvement just as much as Al did.

So what had happened?

No, he couldn't believe it. He couldn't jump to conclusions out of fear. He didn't have enough information. Heck, Al didn't have any real information. All he had was what Riece chose to tell him, and even that couldn't be trusted.

Alphonse looked back up to the beaming man, ready to call him out, but the newspaper was quickly turned and shoved into his view. A monochromatic photo of what appeared to be Ed's mugshot was housed on the front page of the newspaper. Al stared blankly at the picture, ashamed that he barely recognized his brother at first.

Because his days were not divided by sleep like most people, they blurred together and time had a way of traveling by quickly. Despite that, it still felt like an eternity had gone by since he last saw Ed. Apparently, a lot had happened since then, judging by the distinct differences that jumped out to Al on his brother's face.

His eyes were heavy, but alert- or rather, alarmed. His expression gave Al the impression that he was watching out for something to attack him, but outside of relying on instincts, he wasn't quite sure what was happening around him; as if he was caught in a whirlwind.

There was something else hidden deep underneath the surface that surely no one else besides Alphonse was able to notice, but even he couldn't quite place it. If anything, he was afraid to place it. He almost wanted to say that Ed looked damaged, as if something had happened to him just before the photo was taken. Something that somehow had the strength to weigh down his very soul.

But... Al was reading too deeply into it, surely. He was overreacting. Seeing things that were not there, perhaps. Letting his fears get the better of him.

However, if he was right, he didn't want to brush something like that off. Al certainly hoped it wasn't true, but the alternative did nothing to relive his concerns. Even so, that didn't necessarily mean that something happened to Mustang, or that Edward did anything wrong. Or tried to, anyway...

Yes, he couldn't allow himself to jump to conclusions. In a matter of days, he would escape from this place and he would be able to find Ed and clear the whole thing up.

"So what do you think, Alphonse?" Riece asked smartly, still holding the paper loosely in his hand as he studied the suit of armor. "Have you finally come to terms with Edward's actions?"

"Maybe he did get arrested, but it could have been a misunderstanding," Al fired back without hesitation. "You're just twisting things to frighten me!"

"Oh but I've only told you facts so far," the man replied lightly. "It's true that I told Edward to kill Colonel Mustang, and it's true that he was arrested by the very same man. You're a smart kid, Alphonse; I believe you can put the pieces together. Acting naive will get you nowhere."

Was he being naive? Was it wrong of him to have so much faith in his brother? Al didn't think so, but if it was to the point where he denied facts... But no, there were no facts! Riece had proven to him countless times that he was an unapologetic liar. And it was only heavily suggested that Edward attacked Mustang and got thrown behind bars for it. That didn't necessarily mean that that is what actually happened.

"You- you're just not telling me everything. You just want me to believe that for your own pleasure," he accused, but he inwardly flinched as he heard the conviction flee his tone.

"Oh, come now, Alphonse," the man sighed and uncrossed his legs, leaning forward slightly in his chair as concern flashed across his face. "Don't you think this stubborn faith will only hurt more when you finally see your brother again? You need to be prepared for that." He leaned back again, then finally pulled out a small notepad and began to write down notes. "You'll come face to face with Edward and ask for the truth, but how will you react when he's unable to look you in the eye? I've been watching him, and I'm certain that he'll be far too consumed by guilt to give you a straight answer. Will you still think he's so innocent then?"

"No, he won't- he'll... I-" Al stuttered for a moment before silencing himself, unsettled by how the doubt that was planted so long ago began to grow. All he wanted was for it to go away. He couldn't stand the idea of doubting his brother. Ed would never do the same to him, so how could he justify it? He couldn't- he didn't want to. It was so easy to say that Riece was lying even now and none of it was true. How could he know the difference, locked underground? But even if he couldn't prove their worth, all of these supposed facts stacking up against the older Elric still held a weight that he couldn't ignore.

Alphonse couldn't stand to acknowledge it, but he couldn't quite deny it either. Not anymore, anyway. Even without a body, the thought still managed to make him feel sick.

He couldn't believe that Ed was guilty. He just couldn't... But at the moment, he was given nothing else to believe.

* * *

Roy Mustang stepped down the wide hall of Central Command, lacking the usual sense of purpose that often accompanied him on a daily basis. It was turning out to be just another day filled with questions and doubt with no answers in sight.

Once again, he was not able to accomplish much and the day was already drawing to a close. Roy planned on paying Edward another visit, but he was hoping to bring the kid some kind of update in the case. And so far, nothing has changed.

He had just returned from getting a very late lunch (or early dinner) at the cafeteria and was making his way back to his office, polished boots echoing down the corridor with every step. His walking slowed to a stop and he gazed out one of the large windows that overlooked the vast city, squinting his eyes as the setting sun broke through the clouds and reflected its light off of the snow. A gentle snowfall had covered everything in sight with a crisp sheet of white, but the sun added an orange tint and cast long, dramatic shadows over the landscape. Many would have been able to find beauty in such a sight, but it only served to further annoy the colonel. He suppressed a shiver, almost able to feel the cold that would surely greet him after he left the safety of his workplace later that night.

Shaking his head, Roy continued down the hall, sparing no mind to the other uniformed officers who passed him by. He had to keep his attention on the matter at hand; figuring out a way to get Edward out of jail.

Simply breaking him out was out of the question for a plethora of reasons. Even considering doing so in the first place would had been laughable, if Roy was in any mood to laugh. Every other idea included some amount of deceit, but he was certain Ed would agree if it meant getting closer to Alphonse, in spite of his earlier reluctance. All they needed was a solid story and some evidence to back it up.

Perhaps they could switch blame onto Riece and claim that Ed didn't say anything in fear of him harming Al. That was plausible enough, and not entirely untrue, and it would also gain them the support of the rest of the military in search for the kidnapper.

But if it didn't work, if they found out that Roy was lying for the sake of his subordinate, then he would end up in just as much trouble as Edward.

Roy blinked as he recognized the door that suddenly faced him, realizing that he had arrived at his office. He reached forward to grab the knob, but a voice down the hall caused him to stop and look over.

"Roy," a familiar call echoed as hasty steps followed. Maes quickly approached the colonel with a solemn expression that said he meant business. "I need to tell you something."

The alchemist nodded and he proceeded to walk into his office as his hopes wavered. Judging by the man's expression, he wasn't quite sure if good or bad news awaited him. He instinctively casting a glance over his staff as he walked through while Hughes was quick to follow. The five of them were all hard at work (by their standards) and all simultaneously stopped to watch him as he mutely crossed the floor over to his inner office. Without uttering a word, he and his friend stepped into the private room and the door was closed behind them.

Roy sat down at one of the sofas in the center and folded his hands on his kneed, watching carefully as Hughes took the seat across the coffee table from him.

"What is it?" he finally asked, struggling to keep his curiosity from chipping away at his composure.

Thankfully, Maes was quick to get to the point.

"I was doing some digging, and it turns out that my hunch was right. Do you remember Markus Riece?"

Roy's eyes widened as the vaguely familiar name rung in his ears. He felt the blood in his veins run cold as old forgotten memories came to light.

"What about him?" he asked slowly even as realization had already rammed into him like a train, leaving him feeling slightly disoriented. He did what he could to banish the distracting feeling, knowing he had no time for it.

"He was released from prison a few weeks ago."

"What!?" Roy demanded, straightening his back to sit up straight. "How is that possible?"

"From what I heard, he got out early for good behavior," Hughes replied, sounding just as doubtful as Roy felt.

"This can't be a coincidence." Roy dug his fingers into the chair's armrest and glared at the coffee table, cursing himself for not knowing sooner. He had shortly considered the possibility of Markus Riece being the man who had kidnapped Alphonse back when Ed first opened up enough to tell him the name, but he brushed the thought aside since he was still under the assumption that the man was sitting behind bars back in East City.

Four years ago, Roy was a recently promoted lieutenant colonel and was actively searching for work to take up to bump himself higher in the chain of command after he had recovered marginally from the psychological effects of the war. That was when he found and arrested Markus Riece, who had been charged with participating in some rather inhuman experiments. After that, he hadn't heard the name or thought of him once. He was just a stepping stone that quickly faded in Roy's memory, obscured by more important matters.

If he blamed Roy for his arrest, that certainly explained why the man wanted him dead. It also wasn't hard to see that he was simply using Ed to get close to him. However, there were still countless holes in the story.

"But what connection did he have with Victor Tresler?" the colonel asked as if he was speaking to no one, but his eyes fell on his friend anyway. He had no doubt that the man did some looking into it.

"It's too soon to say. I put in a request for the full case file from East Command. Hopefully, I'll have it by tomorrow," Hughes explained, then paused and pursed his lip. "Riece was born in Central and spent the majority of his life here before his arrest. It's possible that they knew each other somehow, although it seems like a long shot. We can only hope that there's some clear connection in the file."

Roy nodded slowly and leaned forward, intertwining his fingers as his gaze focused idly on the coffee table. He remembered very little from that case, despite how disturbing it was. After recently returning from the war, he felt as if nothing could shock him anymore and all thoughts regarding the matter were easily brushed under the rug, along with the countless other unpleasant memories.

Even his efforts to dig up those memories were not very successful. He was in a strange state of mind back in those days; he simply went through the motions, doing all he could to keep his darker thoughts at bay as he struggled to keep his eyes on the future. Markus Riece was simply one criminal out of hundreds- just another tool to distract himself.

"Do you think it's him?" Hughes asked, although one look at him told Roy that they were thinking the exact same thing.

"It couldn't be anyone else. How did you know to look into that anyway?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I remembered you talking about that case a few years back; didn't think looking into it would be all that promises, which is why I didn't mention it. I guess I just got lucky," his friend added with a hint of a shrug.

A thin smile tugged at Roy's lips. Luck seemed to be in short supply these days, but it seemed like it didn't run out just yet.

"Thanks for telling me this, Maes," the colonel said as he placed his hands on his knees and pushed himself back to his feet. "I want to know right away when that file gets here."

"Sure thing," Hughes replied easily as he too stood up. "What are you going to do until then?"

Roy paused and seriously considered the question for a moment. However, he didn't spend long on it before coming to a verdict.

"Not sure. But first and foremost, I need to tell Edward about this." And with that, he was already rounding the couches and making his way for the door, oblivious to the amused smile on his friend's face.

"Alright," Hughes said, failing miserably at keeping the smile from his voice as well as he followed his friend out. Roy gave him a short look over his shoulder, but was far too mentally preoccupied to allow Maes' jovially reaction to slow him down.

Again, without a word to his team, Roy walked through the main office and straight for the second door. He would explain it to them later, as his main focus of priorities was still on the subordinate who was sitting alone in a jail cell.

He was fairly certain that he heard Hughes say something to them on their way out. The mentally occupied colonel was given no reason to believe that it was anything he had to concern himself with, so he paid no mind and continued onward.

"I'll see you later, Roy," his friend said to him just as Roy was walking through the door frame. He gave him a curt wave in response before heading out into the hall.

Pulling up the map of the base in his head, he promptly turned to the left, subconsciously reminding himself not to appear too excited in front of the scrutinizing officers that paced the halls.

But it was exciting, so who could really blame him? He had just more-or-less discovered who was behind a kidnapping and the mental torture of a child.

But on the other hand, perhaps he should try to calm himself down. There was nothing to directly link Markus Riece to this case. When Hughes said he got out of prison for good behavior, then maybe it was true...

Except that was extremely unlikely. He would have to see it with his own eyes to believe it. So until it was proven otherwise, he was going to go off of the assumption that he was right about this, never mind the holes that remained.

As he swiftly turned a corner, he began to compare everything he remembered about Markus to what Edward had told him and still, some things didn't quite add up. For one, Ed described the man to be a very happy person. The man who he arrested four years ago was definitely anything but. Of course, few people had the gall to appear happy while getting arrested, but he didn't even seem capable of such emotions back then. But still, that wasn't enough to cause him any doubt. A lot could change in four years, after all. And even more could change in four years of prison.

Finally the door to the cell block was in sight, growing larger and larger with every hasty step he took towards it. As he was closing in on it, the door opened from behind and two officers dressed in blue began to walk out. Roy thought nothing of them until he saw Edward trudging out behind them.

His mind and body both froze at the sight of his subordinate. Ed's wrists where still restrained and one look at his nervous expression was more than enough to know that something wasn't right. By the looks of it, he was nearing hysteria. He stared ahead with wide, anxious eyes and was fidgety as one of the soldiers pushed him to keep walking.

Roy quickly shook himself out of his alarm and stepped to intersect their path. "Hold on," he ordered, efficiently causing the two lower ranking men to pause. "What do you think you're doing?"

One of them was visibly hesitant, clearly not expecting to get challenged. The other, however, barely even blinked at the colonel as he responded with a confident ease that Roy found rather worrying.

"We were ordered to escort the Fullmetal Alchemist for questioning."

"By who's orders?" Roy asked without missing a beat, just barely keeping the bite from his tone. If Douglas was moving his subordinate around without his knowledge, then there would most certainly be hell to pay. After the new discovery of Markus Riece, the colonel had forgotten about Douglas just long enough for him to pull something.

"By orders of the Fuhrer."

…

_Wait... what!?_

Roy just stared at them for a moment, fighting to digest the shocking information. All thoughts pertaining to Al's kidnapper were temporarily forgotten, eclipsed by his skyrocketing fear for Ed's future.

The Fuhrer?! What could he possibly want with Fullmetal? Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. There was no possible way this was going to end well. Call him a pessimist, but as someone who had seen him in action, Roy knew that there was no one else who was capable of inspiring terror quite like Bradley, all underneath the kind exterior that he often carried around.

Well, that at least explained the soldier's confidence. Roy reluctantly stepped out of the way. "... Carry on then," he forced himself to say, keeping an eye on Ed as they did just that. The kid cast him an anxious glance as he passed, which the older alchemist could only return with sympathy.

He wasn't able to stand in their way, but he could at least follow closely behind.

Roy was amazed that he completely forget to consider how someone like the Fuhrer would react to the news about Ed. A Sate Alchemist being accused of murder was a big deal. And of course Bradley would keep himself updated regarding Ed's situation. Roy didn't hear anything about the opinions of the higher-ups until now. The fact that the rest of the country, including the military, was watching was obscured by other, seemingly more important thoughts.

Edward was right to be worried. There was no telling what the man was planning, but he had the power to do anything he wanted. Hell, he could order Ed for execution and Roy wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it.

No- if it came to that, he would have to do something. But trying to stop it could only get himself killed too for insubordination- or at least get demoted, but he was in no mind to test his luck. If it came down to that, then the only options were for only one of them to die, or both. Or worse. Well, that just wasn't fair.

But wait- hold on, he was getting ahead of himself. It was good to consider the worst case scenario, but he had to be reasonable as well. State Alchemists were valuable resources for the Amestrain military; the Fuhrer of all people wouldn't want to just get rid of one, especially one as skilled as Edward.

Roy exhaled slowly as he followed, willing himself to calm down.  _Don't overreact,_  he told himself.  _It won't be as bad as you think._

But sadly, comforting words did very little when faced with the grand set of double doors that divided him and one of the most powerful men in the world. The colonel was certain that his ribs would crack from the force that his heart was beating against them. He curled his hands into fists by his sides, suddenly extremely grateful for all of the experience he had with hiding his worries behind masks.

However, Edward couldn't say the same. Sure, the kid had an impressive endurance and didn't get shaken easily, but even he could see the dire situation that loomed over them both. His jaw was tensely set and he looked a little unbalanced, but that was likely primary thanks to sleep that he clearly hadn't been getting.

The two soldiers stopped at the door and turned towards the blond. "He wants to speak with you alone," the surer one said as he placed a hand on the door handle, seeing as Ed was unable to open it for himself without much struggle.

Roy was usually keen to keep himself from showing any outright concern for the boy in front of other members of the military, especially those who answered directly to the Fuhrer, but he couldn't stand to remain quiet when the door began to open and Ed cast him another nervous look from over his shoulder.

"I'll be here when you get out," he stated, succeeding with keeping his own worry from his tone.

It looked like Ed would have smiled if he was physically capable of doing so at the moment. But instead, he just did a stiff half-nod before reluctantly turning back towards the door.

His heart was still racing and he'd even wager to say that he was more nervous than Edward was. The kid didn't know what King Bradley was capable of, after all. He had no idea what exactly was waiting for him. But to be fair, Roy didn't know either. Countless possibilities came to mind, but none of them were favorable. He could only hope that Ed didn't say anything that would ruin his chances of freedom.

Roy could only stand back and watch as his subordinate walked into the lion's den, nearly suffocating on a form of fear that he had never felt before.


	22. Chapter 22

The large oak doors shut behind him, casting an echo in both his head and the room that stretched out before him. Edward stood still as he scanned the office, taking in the impressive map of the country that covered an entire wall, the flags that draped down another, the imposing desk that sat near the large windows, and the man behind it who was looking out at the scenery.

As daunting as the situation was, Ed was at least glad to be out of the little cell that had housed him for about five days now. He had paced circles around that small space more times than he cared to count and had grown thoroughly sick of it. There was nothing around him besides a dull gray for so long, he was beginning to think he could only see in a boring monochromatic scale. That is, until he recognized his blond bangs hanging past his eyes, or the blue uniforms strolling past his cell from time to time. The few trips he was able to take across the hall to the interrogation room at least allowed him to look at something else other than the metal bars and the three bland walls that surrounded him.

During his unwilling trip to the Fuhrer's office, Edward was able to get a glimpse of the radiant sun reflecting it's orange light off of the snow that had covered the city. It was a refreshing sight that he couldn't help but stop and stare at until the soldiers quickly ushered him along by force. The stunning fire-like glow had since vanished as the sun fell behind the horizon and the world was once again consumed by a dreary darkness.

A dull, almost gray light drifted through the windows, silhouetting the broad man who had not yet turned to face him. The Fuhrer stood with his hands clasped behind him and his back turned towards his desk as he seemed to admire the darkening world outside.

Ed remained frozen by the door, drowning in the over-sized uniform as his exhausted mind tried to work out what to do now while he fiddled with the bulky handcuffs by habit. What was he  _expected_ to do in such a situation?

He never had very many interactions with Fuhrer King Bradley but he at least knew to remain cautious. Judging by the few impressions Ed did have, he seemed like a decent enough person, but it only made sense for him to portray himself in such a way to State Alchemists. No matter how many times he smiled and greeted the young alchemist, Edward still knew that it was he who ordered the extermination of Ishval, and it was he who was at the very top of the food chain and currently held Ed's life in the palm of his hand.

If Edward was a simple dog of the military, then perhaps that meant Bradley was more like the dragon on their country's flag. Despite how greater the opposing force was, Edward was always willing to bite back, even to those who held his leash; but now, he wasn't sure if he could even do that much. Not when he was in chains with his brother miles away.

"Take a seat."

The blond jolted his attention back to the present when the deep, commanding voice broke the crisp, afternoon silence. His mouth gaped open as if to reply but the words never came even as he shifted across the perfectly glossy floor.

Two black leather armchairs faced the imposing desk that was devoid of any cluttered paperwork, much unlike a certain colonel's office. The situation felt entirely foreign and uncomfortable, Edward noticed as he gingerly sat down. He had faced countless superior officers who separated themselves from him by only a desk and superior rank, but never before was so much hanging on the line. Bradley had the power to seal Ed's fate with a single word if he so chose. Even the truth didn't have to matter to him. Usually, the young alchemist was unfazed by such powerful people, backed up with enough of his own unruly confidence to counter anything they tried to throw at him.

Alphonse was his confidence. He felt invincible in the face of uncertainty as long as he knew that his brother would be waiting for him just beyond the door. But now, he was god-knows-where and had unknowingly taken one of Ed's only sources of courage with him.

But at least Mustang was still waiting on the other side. That had to count for something.

After what felt like far too long and far too short all at the same time, the Fuhrer turned around to face him, assaulting Ed's defenses with his unwavering stare that gave him the impression that the man could see into his very soul.

"You have been causing quite the commotion," he stated factually after a brief, scrutinizing moment.

Again, the blond opened his mouth to reply but no words were able to form. His heart was beating rapidly and he could hear the blood pumping in his ears, accompanied only by the cold, foreboding silence that occupied the space between the Fuhrer's statements.

Bradley sat down behind his desk and folded his hands on the surface, but even lowering himself did nothing to diminish his daunting figure. He waited a moment and continued after it became quite clear that Edward wasn't going to speak up just yet.

"I understand that you have been very uncooperative during the questioning."

Edward lowered his gaze and fought the urge to purse his lip or appear slightly unnerved, even as he was sure he was doing a terrible job.

"That may have worked for you before," the man went on, "but I will not tolerate it. You will tell me what I want to know." His tone did not sound particularly demanding, but more like he was speaking a fact that simply could not be argued. He knew he didn't have to threaten or scare the kid into speaking because there was no other alternative option.

Quite frankly, he would be right to think that.

Edward had found himself in yet another interrogation session. Except this time, he was facing a man with unmatched power and influence with absolutely nothing stopping him from doing whatever he wanted. Ed didn't need the warning to know that the silent treatment that he had adopted would not work this time around. He could either dare risk it and face the consequences, or answer the questions.

But perhaps the situation was not yet lost. Maybe there was a way out of this. He had to find  _something._ There had to be some way...

Bradley leaned forward slightly, focusing solely on Ed with his single eye. He spoke as if he was stating an order rather than asking a question, leaving the blond no way around it. But he didn't need it; as soon as Bradley started talking, he already knew what he would have to say.

"Did you kill Victor Tresler?"

 _The moment of truth,_  he thought humorlessly. There was only one answer that gave him any hope at all for finding his brother.

"No," he spoke slowly and decisively, forcing as much conviction into his tone as physically possible even as his stomach twisted into knots and his head ached. Only after he spoke did Ed realize that he was staring into space. He then brought his gaze back up to meet the Fuhrer's calculating stare.

The lie burned his tongue but it may have been the only path to his goal. And yet, freedom was still far beyond his reach. He had officially denied murdering Tresler even as the guilt still weighed heavily on his heart and mind.

"Is that so?" Bradley articulated slowly. "Then tell me, Fullmetal: who did?"

Edward paused as his mind spun for answers. Quite frankly, he didn't think he could have gotten this far. He knew he could simply claim he didn't know and leave it for someone else to deal with, but something told him that he wouldn't be able to get out of this without offering  _something_ in return.

And then, the obvious answer hit him.

"He goes by the name Riece," he began, struggling to craft his voice into something that sounded much more confident than how he felt. "I don't know if that's his real name or not, but he... he wanted Tresler dead. Don't know why."

Bradley quietly absorbed the information without exposing any of this thoughts whatsoever. He remained as a stoic, unreadable slate that made Edward want to squirm, fearing that the man could see through his lie. He waited with baited breath to be called out on it and sent back into that intolerable cell yet again. Then finally, Bradley replied.

"Why didn't you present this information sooner?" the man asked carefully, not once relinquishing the interrogation-like feel of the conversation.

"I couldn't," Edward blurted out quickly, earning a quirked brow from the Fuhrer. He scrambled to piece together the fake story that he was making up off the top of his head, thankful that at least parts of it were allowed to remain true. "He- Riece kidnapped Alphonse."

"How was it that he was able to capture a skilled alchemist in a suit of armor?"

"I don't know," the kid admitted solemnly, allowing his gaze to drop for a moment. For what it was worth, that much was very true. Al said he was tricked into following Riece, but he still didn't see how he managed to dismantle the younger Elric.

"Then we must consider this man to be a threat."

Edward's eyes shot back up to him, forgetting to hide his shock. He actually believed him...?

Bradley sat back in his large office chair, propping his elbows on the armrests. "The man who goes by the name  _Riece_ killed Victor Tresler, then kidnapped Alphonse Elric and used him to blackmail you, the Fullmetal Alchemist, in order to keep you from exposing his crimes to the military. Is that about right?"

Ed could only stare at him blankly for a moment before nodding hastily.

"In that case, we will ensure this man will be found, along with your brother, as soon as possible. And you, of course, will be released and free to continue your duties. A talented State Alchemist such as yourself won't do any good behind bars," Bradley explained, followed by a lighthearted chuckle, easily dissolving the intimidating exterior that he just portrayed.

Edward honestly wasn't sure if he was gaping or not.

"You look surprised," the Fuhrer commended, raising an eyebrow curiously and with a very noticeable hint of amusement in his tone.

"Uh... yeah," Ed stuttered lamely, as it was all he could think to say. His brain was still struggling to catch up.

The man smiled at him in response. "As soon as I heard that the Fullmetal Alchemist was accused of murder of all things, I knew I would have to get to the bottom of it. I'm glad you trusted me with this information; now we can work on putting this unfortunate situation behind us."

Again, Ed was at a loss for words. He could barely comprehend what was happening. It all seemed... too easy.

"Right," he replied slowly as he eyed the other man carefully, looking for something -anything- that could give him some insight into the Fuhrer's thoughts. Bradley only smiled back, the inner workings of his mind locked behind a tightly sealed, impenetrable safe.

As their conversation apparently drew to a close, the man stood up and mutely prompted Ed to do so as well. He gestured towards the door, then smartly folded his hands behind his back once more.

"Now let's get those handcuffs off of you," he invited as he stepped towards the towering set of double doors, as the soldier who held the keys remained on the other side.

Edward forced himself to stand and fought back a wave of dizziness that wanted to impair his balance, not to mention the overall weakness he felt in his limbs that was undoubtedly caused by sheer confusion. The Fuhrer looked back and politely waited for him as Ed shifted across the room and over to the door.

His mind was spinning and breathing had become noticeably more difficult. It just didn't  _make sense._ After all this time, he was suddenly being released? He was certain that he was going to spend weeks behind bars and would only see the light of day again once he was brought to stand trial. But because the Fuhrer of Amestris willed it so, he was going to walk out that very night. Just like that.

Surely a man in that kind of position wouldn't be so easily swayed by his impulsive lie. So why-

The alchemist was startled out of his thoughts when he felt a stern hand appear on his left shoulder. He had not realized that he had reached the door where Bradley waited until he felt the weight of the gesture and saw the blue of his uniform in his peripheral vision.

He stared ahead, eyes wide with panic and alarm, even as he had no idea what there was to be so worried about. His throat closed from the trepidation as he felt himself become incredibly still, certain that he couldn't break free of the single grip even if he had the nerve to try.

"Now remember, Fullmetal," the man began calmly in a tone that brought forth a chilling air around him that demanded Ed pay attention. And yet, he still had the amiable smile on his face. It would have reminded him of Riece if it wasn't for the baleful sense to it.

"I'm doing this favor for you so you can do your job as a State Alchemist. In return, I do hope you continue to loyally serve this great nation for years to come."

Even after he spoke, the hand remained and he watched the kid closely, tacitly telling Ed that he expected an answer- confirmation.

"Yes sir," he forced out after a hesitant moment, unsure how he found the strength to speak in more than a startled whisper. But once he did, the weight was removed from his shoulder and the Fuhrer reached for the door handle.

"Good," he said easily. The blond was unsure if he was trying to make light of the situation or not.

Even through the fog of his tired, overworked mind, Edward was able to see what was happening and caught onto the silent threat that hung beneath his words right away. The realization created a deep pit in his gut that felt more like a black hole. The room's temperature must have dropped a few degrees, causing the blond to shiver from either the cold, or horror. He wasn't sure which.

But before he could decide, the door was pulled open, leaving Ed room to step back out into the hall. He did so quickly, eyes immediately searching for the familiar black haired man who said he would be waiting for him.

Mustang stopped from what appeared to be pacing as soon as the door squeaked open. His worried, searching stare locked onto Ed's for a fraction of a second. A flash of relief slid over his expression before he snapped to attention along with the two soldier's who stood guard.

Ed paused, then quickly stepped aside as the Fuhrer followed him out.

"At ease, men," the man said, allowing the three to drop their right arms to their sides. However, none of them looked particularly eased. Mustang in particular looked almost ill with dread, although most would only be able to see the crafted mask of a focused military officer. Edward, however, had become rather skilled at picking up the incredibly subtle hints lately.

"There is no longer any reason for the Fullmetal Alchemist to be locked up like a common criminal. If you would..." Bradley trailed off as he gestured to the kid, tacitly ordering one of the soldier's to unlock the handcuffs. The one who first caught the hint approached Edward long before he could even consider presenting the locks to the man as he pulled out a crowded key ring. The soldier quickly undid the two small padlocks that worked together to hold his wrists apart. After a brief moment of fumbling, the bulky handcuffs were removed from his wrists, allowing him to rotate the joints for the first time in far too long.

"I'll be sure to deal with the media, so you can get some rest," the Fuhrer continued kindly. "Come tomorrow, all of Amestris will know that the Fullmetal Alchemist is free from suspicion."

Ed narrowed his eyes as his gaze fell to the ground. Despite the reputation that had been built for him for the past few weeks, the guards still released him without hesitation, in favor for believing their leader's words wholeheartedly. And by the next morning, every person in the nation will do the very same.

_If only they knew..._

Ignoring the others, Edward took his flesh wrist into his automail hand, running a metal finger across the faint red ring that remained on his skin from days-worth of irritation. Anything to get his mind to stray from the situation at hand simply so he wouldn't feel the urge to get sick.

"Colonel Mustang."

His attention snapped back to the scene before him as his ears caught the name that he deemed important in the voice of the man who he was currently very wary of. His arms fell to his sides, allowing the long gray sleeves to drape down to his fingers. But even as he listened, Edward found paying attention to be rather difficult. His brain was still spinning from his meeting with the Fuhrer and he was becoming to feel increasingly numb and distant.

"Sir," Mustang responded instinctively to the Fuhrer, hiding all traced of emotion behind a steel exterior.

"You have been leading this case, correct?" the man asked needlessly.

"Along with Colonel Douglas, yes," Mustang answered, almost reluctant to include his co-worker.

"Based off of what you have gathered thus far, what do you think about my decision regarding the Fullmetal Alchemist's innocence?"

"You're asking for  _my_  opinion, sir?" Mustang asked carefully, only allowing a small portion of his surprise into his tone.

"But of course. It's very important that I listen to the insight of my officers."

"Well, in that case," Mustang began with the slightest hint of a smirk as he swiftly abandoned all traced of hesitation. "I had to focus on finding our primary suspect, despite how unlikely I personally thought it was to be. So I would agree with your judgment. Douglas on the other hand-"

 _Oh no, what's he up to now?_  Edward wondered inwardly.

"- may not be so easily convinced."

"And why is that?" Bradley asked as his interests were piqued. The smile that was targeted towards the young blond had long since disappeared to be replaced by the business-like expression that he had in place more often than not.

"Douglas is quick to jump to conclusion, it appears. He went so far as to interrogate my entire team, thinking that one of them were harboring Fullmetal, and even broke into my own home, claiming that he had enough cause to justify it, when there was really no such information."

 _Throwing Douglas under the bus. Figures._ Of course, Ed couldn't say that he wasn't mutely encouraging the colonel.

"I see," The Fuhrer mused quietly, making it quite impossible to know if this was new information for him or not.

Ed would assume that documents such as search warrants that were signed off by generals would fall underneath the powerful man's radar, but he also wouldn't be surprised if he somehow knew about everything that happened inside the capital.

"I'll look into the matter," Bradley stated, swiftly bringing an end to the discussion. Mustang promptly thanked him, followed by the man saying goodbye to both alchemists. Edward quietly forced out a return to the formality, but thankfully, his less-than-perfect reply was overlooked as the Fuhrer continued on his way down the hall with the two soldiers in tow.

Mustang watched him leave and did not allow any of his shields to drop until the man and his entourage were well out of sight. Once they were, he exhaled deeply and ran a hand through his hair wearily. "Well, I'm glad that's-" He stopped mid-sentence once his dark eyes fell on the blond. "God, Ed, you're not looking too good. What happened in there?"

Edward opened his mouth to reply as he started blankly at nothing, but he was unable to form any words. He didn't even know what happened. How was he supposed to retell a story that he couldn't even understand? All he knew in that moment was they he had a headache, and he wanted to leave.

"I- I don't-"

Mustang gave him a strange look. "Actually, you can tell me later. Let's just get going."

The kid nodded slowly and turned to start walking. He intended to say  _good idea_ but never managed to do so.

However, they didn't get far. Just after the colonel fell into step besides him, he stopped abruptly as if something physically stood in the way. Ed paused as well and turned towards the man with both curiosity and worry. He caught a glimpse of something in the man's visage, but it was gone before he could give it a name.

"... You know what this means, don't you?" Mustang asked almost reluctantly after a moment.

Edward wasn't entirely sure why, but his heart jumped at the question. An irrational part of his mind wondered if the man was thinking the very same thing he was, but that was not the case.

"You no longer have any reason to hide. You're free to stay at your dorm here again if you wanted to."

He absentmindedly curled his hands into loose fists.  _You're wrong,_ he thought. He only had more reasons to hide now.

But the very fact Mustang brought that up made him wonder: did he  _want_  Ed to go? He didn't appear to be particularly pleased about the idea, but it was difficult to tell when he purposefully locked up his emotions behind a wall.

But Edward at least knew for a fact that he did  _not_ want to return to an empty dorm- surrounded by more barren walls by himself with only his own treacherous thoughts for company.

"W-well... what do  _you_  want?" the kid asked, shifting his weight awkwardly as he struggled to keep eye contact.

"Wha-  _me?_  Well-" The colonel put an end to his surprised stammering with a relenting sigh as the tension slipped from his shoulders. "I won't force you to do anything, but I'd prefer it if you stayed a while longer."

Edward allowed a thin smile, certain that he would have given Mustang crap for admitting such a thing if he had the energy to do so. Hell, he was far too tired to even revel in the happiness it brought him to know that the colonel wasn't sick of him yet.

"Then we agree," he supplied just as he turned to continue walking. The older alchemist hesitated for just a second longer before quickly catching up. Ed could nearly sense the smile that was surely slipping onto his usually stoic face, but he did not spare a moment to check.

* * *

Edward reluctantly returned to the jail block to retrieve his belongings, which only consisted of the clothes he had been wearing when he originally got arrested. He had considered just leaving them in favor for returning to the house as soon as possible, but Mustang insisted that the baggy uniform he had been wearing would not protect him from the foul whether.

After changing in one of the base's restrooms, Ed rejoined the colonel in the hallway and they made their way out of the building. As they trekked through the labyrinth of halls, he decided that he couldn't have gotten outside soon enough. But after the final set of doors were opened, the blond began to regret that thought.

Despite the warnings, he wasn't quite prepared for the freezing cold gust of air that swept towards him as soon as he stepped outside. He immediately pulled the brown coat closer around himself and tried to keep his teeth from chattering. Small, fragile snowflakes blew into his face, forcing him to blink them away as he followed Mustang down the large row of steps.

On his way down, Ed spared a moment to look out at the city that had long since been covered by shadows. There was a faint tint of orange over the horizon from where the sun had set, but the vast majority of the sky was dark with clouds. The city was covered in a coating of snow that crunched under his feet with every step. On any normal day, he would have enjoyed the prospect of such a healthy coverage of snow, as it would have reminded him of his past experiences, which had primarily been positive ones. But at the moment, he couldn't stand to think about the people of his hometown- what they might have thought of him. He didn't want to start wondering if they have heard the news that had been in circulation for weeks.

Instead, he took a deep breath, allowing the frosty air to chill his throat, and focused on the road ahead.

When they reached the car, Edward climbed into the front passenger's seat without a word. If Mustang thought anything about the gesture, he didn't comment as the engine roared to life. Even in the safety of the vehicle, Ed's arms remained tightly wrapped around himself in a poor attempt to conserve his fading body heat. Hopefully, the air would begin to warm up soon. Mustang was thinking the same thing, judging by the way he stiffly opened and closed his gloved hands before grabbing hold of the steering wheel and turning out onto the main road.

"So," Mustang began, being the first to break the crisp silence that had consumed the car. He kept his eyes trained on the road ahead and spoke calmly. "What happened in there?"

Edward leaned against the car door and looked aimlessly out the window, watching as the streetlights and other cars illuminated the snowflakes as they all blurred by.

He took a deep breath, knowing he had nothing to gain by stalling. "... Bradley just asked if I killed Tresler almost as soon as I walked in. So I- I lied. I told him  _no..._ I tried to convince him that I didn't do it."

As he went on, more of his frustration became evident in his tone despite his efforts. In the corner of his eye, he noticed Mustang's thoughtful expression and continued when the man opened his mouth to say something, as he already had an idea as to what it would be.

"Don't try to defend me," Ed added quickly, narrowing his eyes to glare at the passing city lights. "I'd lie a thousand times more for Al... But-" He clenched his teeth together. "But it won't change anything. I still murdered him. And I still tried to say that I didn't."

A thoughtful silence passed between them, one that Ed was too preoccupied in his own feelings to fully notice. After a moment, the colonel's voice slipped through his concentration and pulled him away from it.

"I realize this isn't what you want to hear right now, but I still don't consider you a murderer."

 _You should_ , Edward thought spitefully, wrapping is arms tighter around himself and laying the side of his head against the cold glass. But if he voiced his thoughts, he was well aware that he would only earn himself a lecture from the older alchemist.

"And you shouldn't either."

Ed made a quiet  _mmhm_  sound, subtly brushing the comment off. He swiftly brought his mind back to the conversation he had with Bradley and urged the conversation forward.

"And... I think he knows," he breathed shallowly.

"What do you mean?" Mustang asked without missing a beat, his tone now more intent.

The blond shifted his weight in the seat. "Bradley didn't seem very suspicious- not as much as I expected, anyway. At first, I thought I just sounded convincing enough, but then on my way out, he stopped me and said he was doing me a  _favor._ Said he expected me to keep serving the military." Mustang stiffened subtly and his grip around the wheel tightened. "I think he's faking it- playing along with my lie."

The kid glanced at the driver, unsure as to how he would react. Mustang glared at the window and he set his jaw, clearly vexed by the revelation. Ed expected him to conceal his thoughts, until he cursed under his breath.

"Bradley would much rather deceive the public than lose one of his human weapons," the man went on with an irritated, yet controlled tone. "He was probably tired of waiting for us to come to a conclusion the proper way and decided to intervene in order to speed things along. For all we know, he could have known what happened as soon as you walked in there."

"Figured it was something like that," Ed mused solemnly, shifting his gaze to stare down at his knees. "He said I had to tell him what he wanted to know, but- but maybe he just wanted me to say what he wanted to hear. Bradley knew I had no other choice but to agree... What do you think he's planning?"

Mustang shook his head fractionally, but not once did his eyes leave the road ahead. "It's impossible to say. Perhaps he's just trying to keep you trapped here, even after you restore your bodies and have no more reason to stay... Maybe he plans on sending us to war again," the man added quietly, almost too quietly to hear. "But without his involvement, it's very possible that you wouldn't have been welcomed back into the military at all."

That was probably the worst part of it all. His own troubles were being used against him in order to benefit someone else's agenda. He should have just counted himself lucky for the turn of events.

Edward decided not to respond. He looked out the window again just as the car slowed to a stop, mildly surprised to see the familiar townhouse appear in his view. He hadn't realized the drive went by so quickly, too distracted by conversation to consider it.

As Mustang turned off the engine and moved to step out of the car, Ed did the same, flinching slightly as he was assaulted by the sharp cold once more. Despite his many layers, it seemed to have gotten only more merciless during the ride and chilled him to the bone, which was only made worse by his automail.

He followed Mustang up to the front door, feeling not at all relieved by their conversation, but rather, only more frustrated. As soon as the colonel opened the door and allowed him to step inside, the many concerns that weighed down his mind suddenly felt heavier, as if the gravity around him had increased, urging him to release it all before it crushed him.

But even as he tried to fight back these thoughts, a small voice in the back of his mind still found the time to enjoy returning to a familiar location that felt safe. The sensation was similar to how he felt when he returned home. Except instead of spending months away from Resembool between visits, it had only been a few days.

It felt longer.

Much, much longer.

Edward scanned his eyes over the familiar room, entirely unsure how to think or feel. The fact that he had been released didn't quite feel real until he found himself in the safe haven of Mustang's house. But even then, he wasn't content.

Ed immediately stepped into the living room and paced rapidly back and forth across the long side of the coffee table as he was assaulted with more relentless thoughts. Mustang had hung up his coat by the door, then mutely turned to watch the teenager with a hint of concern etched into his face.

Despite his movement and the overall temperature of the house, Edward was still freezing cold to the point of feeling numb in his joints. He distractedly brushed his fingers through his bangs as he stared holes into the ground, then tightened his grip, unfazed by the uncomfortable tug that it caused.

There was no way to know how the events would have unfolded had the Fuhrer not decided to interfere and deceive the entire nation for the sake of Ed's job. He wanted to think that there could have been a better way- but no, he saw no better possible outcome. And yet, it was incredibly difficult to take what he could get and just be happy about it.

He growled through his teeth, unsure how to deal with the unbridled confusion and anger that overflowed off of him in waves. He couldn't stand it.

"This is just so messed up," he muttered under his breath, lowering his hands to rub his tired eyes. "By tomorrow, the whole country will think that I'm innocent. How am I supposed to face them all now? People will walk up to me and say how glad they are that I'm not a murderer and welcome me back. It's not right. It's not  _fair._ "

"Ed-" Mustang started as he stepped closer.

"They'll all treat me like I'm innocent- a victim! And I'll have to carry the truth with me for the rest of my life! Do you have any idea how this feels?!" Ed interrupted abruptly as control over his own words slipped through his hands like sand as he continued to pace. He wasn't yelling at Mustang directly, but couldn't keep himself from venting. The colonel just so happened to be the only person who could hear it.

"Do you think I  _don't_ know how it feels?"

Edward paused as the words hit him. There was no hidden accusation or contempt behind them; just a simple rhetorical question. "... Sorry," he sighed as he silently reproved himself. He wasn't the only one who had faced such challenges before.

"I still get praised for the atrocities I committed in the past.. I can't clam that I understand exactly what you're going through; because I don't. And I know that you may never learn to forgive yourself. But I do know that the only way forward is to accept it."

The blond glanced at the older man who stood next to the couch, catching his dark, focused gaze for a fraction of a second before he turned away again.

"I already know that," Ed shot back as the memory of that particular night came to mind; the last time Mustang had to give him a little pep talk.

He was only able to slightly relax for a brief moment before his composure quickly abandoned him once more, allowing words to spill out. He had stopped walking mindlessly around the table and simply stood besides it instead, dropping his gaze to the ground, away from the colonel.

"But I  _can't_ accept it! How could I!? What is Al going to think of me? I don't even know if he knows about this or not... I bet that bastard told him. How could he ever forgive me for this? But I can't do this without him. I don't even know what I'm doing in the first place!"

"Ed," Mustang cut in again as he stepped forward, his tone insistent.

Edward whirled around to face him and snapped "What!?" just as a nauseous wave of dizziness overtook his vision and sense of balance. As if his body had finally begun to give up on him, his knees buckled under his weight and the blond dropped to the ground.

Mustang exclaimed something, his voice laden with worry, but Ed was unable to make out the words as the world spun disproportionately around him. His brought his hands up to his forehead in a meager attempt to calm it, oblivious to the man who had knelt down beside him.

The kid slowly opened his eyes again, vaguely noting how his vision seemed strangely dark just as his surroundings were beginning to cease their spinning. At least he had more hope of getting some much needed sleep now that he was out of that cell. But at the same time, it was difficult to foresee when his mind was buzzing.

"Just look at me" Edward hissed towards himself, staring blankly at the ground. "I'm pathetic. I can't even stand up straight- let along rescue Alphonse... I can't do anything alone. I can't believe how- how  _weak_  I am."

Even then, he felt tears swell in his eyes, only further proving his point. He was far over his head. Nothing more than a child, trying to do the impossible. Trying to carry the weight of the world and fix everything around him, when he wasn't even whole himself.

A hand landed on his shoulder, but it did nothing to add to the weight he felt. Rather, it almost elevated it somewhat; a subtle reminder that he was not alone. No matter what he had thought in the past, he never really was.

That wordless gesture chipped away at his crumbling defenses. Ed tensed as he felt a thin stream of warmth slip down his cheek against his control as he tried to no avail to keep himself steeled. But somehow, Mustang's presence was able to effortlessly push past his attempts to appear stable.

"Being able to do things alone doesn't make you strong," the colonel's deep, calming voice said besides him. "What makes you strong is knowing when to ask for help."

Edward almost wanted to laugh at the statement; Mustang was just as stubborn as him when it came to asking for assistance- or as they often perceived it: burdening others with their own problems. But instead, he suppressed an emotional tremor that wanted to run down his body and sniffed miserably.

It did not make much sense to him. How could asking for help make him strong when the very prospect of doing so make him feel so small and worthless?

But despite the many challenges they had faced, Mustang had not once given him a poor piece of advice that he could think of. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was about time that Ed let go of the reigns- just for a little while.

He inhaled roughly, reluctant to give up the futile fight to keep up the weakening pillar of support that kept him from breaking down completely. Edward was aware there was no point, especially when Mustang sat besides him, but it was so hard to give in the emotions that threatened to tighten his throat and leave him shaking.

Perhaps that was the colonel's point.

And so he relented. Ed's voice sounded shaken and fragile, not much more than a tremulous whisper.

"... Help."

That single word allowed a flood gate to open, stripping him of his ability to hold it back. He shut his eyes tightly as the treacherous tears fell freely and his body shook from the surge of grief and uncontrollable confusion that tried to choke him.

The sheer force of shame that accompanied that word forced him to bow his head, unable to look up when he already felt so petty. He was too preoccupied with his disdain for that feeling and that word to remember why he even said it in the first place. When the comforting hand on his shoulder was removed, he was jolted out of his self-loathing dysphoria and immediately wished for it to return.

Mustang shifted besides him, but Ed still did not remove his gaze from the floor in front of him even as he briefly thought the man was going get up and leave. Before he could indulge the thought further, the hand returned, but on his other shoulder.

He didn't understand why until he felt a gentle, guiding force that pull him closer to the colonel. It would have been easy to resist, but he leaned into it without giving the motion a second thought.

Edward continued to shiver from both the cold that seeped down to his bones and the pitiful display of emotion that he had no power over. Rather than adding just another set of worries to his already overworked and exhausted mind, the blond blocked out his own thoughts and focused primarily on the warmth that surrounded him when Mustang brought his other arm to wrap around his back.

Neither of them said anything; there was no need. They were both aware that Ed currently needed a form of reassurance that went beyond words. Mustang perfectly understood that no amount of hollow condolences and sympathy would fix the many troubles that haunted the kid's mind, and did not intend to bother trying.

For once in his life since his mother died, Ed felt like nothing could possibly harm him as he pressed himself into the protective embrace. He knew the comforting sensation would diminish significantly when he woke up the next morning and would have to face the daily trials once again, but for the moment, he didn't care.

All that mattered to him was that he was able to sit on Mustang's floor once again and relinquish some of the burdens that haunted him to someone who was more than willing to take them on. Before today, the kid feared that he would never again be given such an opportunity. For being reassured that that was not the case, he was incredibly thankful.

He began to doze off in the forced blankness of his own mind, allowing himself to focus on nothing but the present. For a moment, he idly wondered if he would end up falling asleep where he sat as the urge to yawn sprang up.

But before he could consider it further, Mustang started slightly and a faint gasp slipped through his lips. Edward reeled back marginally, causing the arms around him to slacken somewhat, to study his expression.

"What?" the kid asked carefully, inwardly wondering if it was more bad news.

But instead of seeing what he feared, the colonel allowed a small smile as he returned the blond's stare. "I almost forgot; we finally found out who Riece is."

Ed stared at him blankly with his mouth hanging ajar, stunned by unexpected revelation. "You... what?"

"We know who he is now. His file should arrive tomorrow, and then we'll have his whole story. After that, he won't be able to hide for much longer."

The blond shifted to face the man, then remained still for what felt like minutes as he registered the shocking new information. Just moments ago, he was cursing the way he had been freed from jail. Yes, he was glad to be out, but being released only on the Fuhrer's terms infuriated him. However, the entire situation suddenly looked a little brighter.

He was no longer restrained to that damn cell, Mustang continued to let him take up his guest room, and now they had discovered Riece's identity. So much had happened in so little time. He could hardly believe it.

Before he could proceed to question if his ears were fooling him, one look at the colonel's expression put his mind at ease. The man's confident smile did not hold an ounce of uncertainty or doubt. He was absolutely positive in what he said, so Ed couldn't help but share in that optimism.

It was still so unbelievable.

His golden eyes fell on the small scratch that resided on the man's cheek; the one Edward himself had personally inflicted just the other day. In that mere instant, his sudden desire to apologize again eclipsed over all else. However, he knew that he would only get along lecture for it, especially after he had just been told something amazing.

Ed blinked, realizing that he had been staring mindlessly at Mustang for some unknown amount of time, and quickly shook himself out of the mild trance. But still, he couldn't quite shrug off the surprise and intense gratitude that swiftly overtook his senses.

He was going to find Riece. He was going to find Al. He certainly wouldn't have gotten this far if it wasn't for Mustang forcefully dragging him along.

Again, words did not seem like they could suffice.

The kid leaned forward and swiftly wrapped his arms around the man's torso, pressing the side of his face into his chest. Mustang was mildly startled by the action but wasted no time in returning the gesture. In doing so, Ed felt like he could hide from the world before they all fell victim to the lie that would inevitably reach their ears, at least for the time being.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice muffled only slightly by the fabric of Mustang's shirt.

Usually, he might have just left it at that. He considered remaining terse to sound vague and mysterious, leaving the man to discern what he meant for himself. He knew the message he was trying to get across was not a complicated one, and Mustang would undoubtedly figure it out. He did not need to spell it out; but this time, he wanted to.

"Thanks for not giving up on me. Even after all the crap I put you through." He kept his heavy gaze downcast at nothing as he listened only to his own breathing and the subtle beats of life that he could feel through Mustang's chest.

"You're welcome," he replied fondly, his voice steady. "Besides, it's my responsibility to look out for you."

Ed's shoulders twitched as he laughed softly under his breath. "You keep saying that. You almost sound like a- ..." He stopped himself, allowing the smile that he did not realize had appeared to slowly drop. Wondering if perhaps that would be a poor comparison to make, Edward began to regret letting it come to mind.

"Like what?"

He sighed, accepting that there was no way out of it.

"... I had a shitty father, so I guess I don't have any firsthand experience with how they're supposed to act. But... That's what you're kinda acting like."

Ed wasn't sure what kind of reaction to expect, but Mustang only chuckled lightly. The blond felt the soft vibration which served to ease some of his worries, and further embarrass him.

"I'll take that as a compliment," the colonel responded easily as he rested his chin on the top of the blond's head.

Edward did not react besides finally allowed his eyelids to close once again and exhaled soundlessly. He hoped Mustang understood what he meant. He didn't intend to compare the man to his worthless father, as that would surely be an insult. But judging by the unshakable resolve and warmth in his tone, Ed assumed that he got the message.


	23. Chapter 23

Roy directed his car into the designated parking spot just as he did almost every morning. The tires effortlessly plowed through the snow and crushed it beneath their weight as he slowed it to a stop. As if in retaliation, fragile dots of white immediately began to land on the windshield and would surely coat it within minutes.

After releasing a resigned exhale, he turned his attention to the teenager who sat in the passenger's seat. It was easy to say that Edward was looking much better than he did the past few days, undoubtedly relieved to be out of the suffocating cell that had trapped him for almost a week. He still looked tired and rather drained, but recovery was not far off. However, that small comfort did little to fight back the unease that emulated off of him as he worried the hem of his coat.

Roy quirked an inquiring brow at the kid as he caught his eye.

"Nervous?" he asked needlessly.

The blond dropped his gaze back down to his fingers as he shifted the brown nylon material between them absentmindedly. After a moment, he nodded slowly.

"I know it's stupid. There's nothing to be afraid of, but," Edward muttered solemnly and paused to sigh wearily. "I guess I'd just... rather not face them."

The colonel didn't have an immediate response. He already tried to tell Ed that he had no obligation to return to the office so soon, but the kid wouldn't hear it. Just as Roy had expected, he was determined to make some progress now that they didn't have as many roadblocks.

"It doesn't matter," Edward continued decisively after glancing at the colonel again. "Let's go."

With that said, he undid his seat belt and pushed the door open, prompting Roy to do the same.

He kept a close eye on the blond as they walked up the steps of Central Command, almost as if staring long enough would allow him to get a glimpse into his thoughts. But since no such thing was possible, he settled for guessing; which thankfully wasn't very difficult to do when Ed was distracted.

Fullmetal had already expressed the night before that he didn't like the idea of everyone believing he had nothing to do with Tresler's death. However, there was no way to stop such an outcome in sight, especially now that Bradley made it abundantly clear that the truth was to remain a secret. The media would be alerted to this new progression the next day, if they hadn't been already.

Edward knew all of this and was struggling to accept it.

Roy, on the other hand, was yet to decide how he felt about the situation overall. Perhaps it was selfish, but he preferred it this way. Despite what his young subordinate thought, Roy still did not blame him for the death and was more than happy to allow the rest of the nation to think the same. Maybe then the young alchemist could finally come to terms with the fact that he was just another victim.

But that was a thought that he would keep to himself, at least for the time being. Ed still had to work out his views on the reality in his own head before Roy wanted to get involved.

The two alchemists walked through the halls, both knowing the path to his office like the back of their hands. Edward did what he could to ignore the curious glances that his presence attracted as soldiers walked by. News spread quickly at HQ, so Roy did not have a single doubt that every one of them already knew about the latest development.

For a moment during the speechless walk, he had to wonder what kind of implications they were casting. Perhaps some thought that the colonel was escorting his _unruly subordinate,_ lest he get himself into even more trouble. Well, that was fine by him. Ed likely wouldn't be so keen to agree, but he probably wasn't considering such thoughts to begin with. The kid looked far too preoccupied with figuring out how he was going to proceed as they got closer and closer to the office.

Before Ed seemed to come to a conclusion, their target came into view and their pace slowed as they approached it. Roy gave the teenager a moment to compose himself, silently reminding him that there was nothing to worry about. Edward closed his eyes, took a deep breath as he tightened his fists, then forced the obvious tension out of his body with a quick exhale. He opened his eyes again with a familiar gleam in them that reminded Roy of his signature brand of confidence. It was not quite as vibrant as it once was, but it was there and that was all that mattered.

After casting one more glance to the kid beside him, Roy pushed the door open and walked into his office. Just as he expected, five sets of eyes fell on him as soon as he did so; all in which shifted to the blond a moment after.

The colonel allowed himself a moment to enjoy their expressions as they all slowly began to show signs of surprise as well as happiness upon seeing their co-worker's return. There was a brief moment of silence in which Edward resolutely held his expression that was soon broken by Havoc.

"Cheif!" he exclaimed as a wide grin soon occupied his face. "I didn't see you there behind-"

"What?" Edward questioned immediately, efficiently cutting him off with the silent challenge for him to continue that sentence.

The lieutenant apparently spoke without thinking and didn't intent to insult Fullmetal's height for once, judging by the way he tried to take his words back, but by then it was far too late. The nervous tension that was previously seen in Edward's stiff shoulders was easily replaced by over-dramatic teenage rage. Roy smiled to himself as he continued to his desk while Ed went off on Havoc for his thoughtless comment.

Thankfully for the second lieutenant, he was saved a thorough beating when the others approached Ed to properly welcome him back.

Roy watched from a distance as the blond was surrounded by familiar, friendly faces who all amiably greeted him. He was certain that Ed didn't think he deserved their kind words, but even he could not deny the fact that their comforting presence brought along a bigger sense of belonging that he had been deprived of.

The colonel knew from the beginning that Ed was fearing their reactions for nothing, and deep down, the kid probably knew that too. But nonetheless, it was comforting to see that truth in action.

He could see it in the way Edward smiled at their comments and tried to hold back laughter; sometimes things had to be taken away for one to realize just how important they were. In the blond's case, he was lucky enough to have these things returned to him. Roy idly wondered if Ed was now aware that he had never been truly alone, even when he was hiding out in alleyways in the rain. Perhaps that was a conversation for another day.

The colonel's eye was caught by Hawkeye, who spared him a glance while the others continued to speak to Edward. She gave him an approving nod with the slightest hint of a smile, almost as if to congratulate him for not completely screwing up while Ed was under his care. And judging by the way no one commented on the murder, they either all suddenly acquired some tact, or Hawkeye told them beforehand not to bring it up. Whichever it was, he had no doubt that she gathered enough information to know- or at least guess- what had happened to Ed over the past few weeks. Roy wondered if they would have a conversation about it long after it was over, or if it would be one of those things that they just come to a natural, tacit agreement on.

Despite all of the bumps in the road and the trials that were sure to come, Roy allowed himself to enjoy the fact that he had not yet failed miserably as his eyes fell back on Edward. He wanted to say that he even felt proud of the major part he played in keeping the kid from falling apart. Their problems were far from over, but seeing him honestly smile as he spoke to the vivacious team made every moment feel all the more worth it.

But before he could enjoy that sense of accomplishment to its fullest, the office door was pushed open and Maes Hughes stepped, unaware of the excitement he was walking into. For a fraction of a second, Roy recognized something on the man's face that told him they were about to talk business; but whatever he saw, it was quickly obscured by a jovial grin as soon as his olive eyes landed on Edward.

"Hey Ed, welcome back!" he began as he welcomed himself in and patted the kid on the back.

"Thanks," Ed said with the same small smile that implied he wasn't sure if it belonged there or not. But in spite of that, he even looked glad to see the energetic family man; or at least, as glad as he could be when the threat of being bombarded with family pictures loomed overhead.

"Hey, what's with the new coat?" Hughes asked suddenly, drawing the room's attention towards the brown layer that seemed to have replaced the bright red one. Roy also couldn't help but wonder. He hadn't taken the time to consider it before, but he figured Ed would have switched back to the preferred coat the moment he was no longer on the nation's wanted list.

Edward was put on pause and immediately began to struggle to find a decent response. "Oh- uh, this is, uh... The other one... is dirty."

Thankfully, Maes easily picked up on the touchy subject and was quick to move on.

"Alright," he replied lightly just before his eyes fell on Roy. His natural smile was still in place but a sense of determination fluidly slipped into it as he held up a crisp folder in his hand.

The colonel straightened up in his seat but said nothing in reply, having no need to ask for details. He already knew what his friend was holding and was more than ready to accept it.

His staff all watched the investigations officer as he crossed the floor and approached Roy's desk.

"As exciting as this all is, we better get down to business," he began, presenting the folder out to his friend. "This arrived on my desk just minutes ago. I figured you should read it first."

Roy gingerly accepted the file as if a rough enough touch could shrivel it to dust. He eyed the name _Markus Riece_ that resided on the small tab.

"... What is that?" The colonel looked past the file to see Ed had stepped besides Maes and stared at the folder intently. In all likelihood, he already knew what vital piece of information Roy held in his hands but still felt the need to ask and confirm anyway.

As an answer, Roy flipped open to the first page and quickly skimmed through it, picking out the information he deemed important.

"Markus Riece, arrested in August 1910 for illegal and unethical human experimentation. He was released on parole September 2nd, 1914." He paused to continue skimming, but Ed spoke up before he could find anything else of note.

"Human experimentation?" the kid echoed, his eyes narrowed on thought.

Roy looked back down to the file and flipped to the next page. Staring back at him was Reice's mugshot from when he was originally arrested four years ago.

The colonel thought nothing of his face back then but looking upon it again, it easily stood out. The face in black and gray ink starkly contrasted Ed's description of him. Instead of having a bright, lively expression and an earnest smile, Markus Riece had the eyes of a dead man. He stared straight at the camera with a spiteful, seething expression that gave the impression he was silently cursing the world when it was taken.

Ed described a clean shaven man with neatly trimmed hair, but in the photo, he had a beard that easily covered half of his face and a bushy head of hair that was likely once combed back but now threatened to fall into his eyes.

Looking at the photo again, it wasn't hard to believe that Roy didn't immediately make the connection back when he briefly considered the possibility. In fact, he found it difficult to even imagine the person who Edward described to him.

Shaking his head, Roy continued to flip through the pages, eyeing the information they held as the memories from that event came back to him. Despite that case being a unique one, it was quickly forgotten as soon as it was closed. He went through the file as if reading it for the first time, only remembering few details. But the more he read, the more hidden memories resurfaced. After he minute, he managed to fill many of the gaps. He certainly had enough to retell the story; and judging by the curious stares he received from his entire staff plus Hughes as soon as he looked up, he knew they were eager to hear it.

Roy leaned back in his chair as his eyes danced over the text once more.

"Markus Riece was a psychologist in Central for the majority of his career and also worked as a therapist. He eventually moved to East City to study the effects of the war on the people there. He became fascinated with how people react in stressful situations and began to work as a therapist again in the east- except he began subjecting his patients to tests that he devised, claiming that they were for their benefit."

He paused to read down the brief list that was provided. "Some examples of these tests include things like having people make high-stress, life or death decisions," he explained, forcefully keeping himself from glancing at Ed.

"What does it mean by _life or death decisions_?" Havoc asked after a strenuous moment of silence, asking the question they were all surely wondering.

Roy shuffled through the papers until he found one in particular. "They got progressively worse as he continued to do this, but to name a few, he apparently made people point empty guns at each other and see who would be willing to fire, have someone decide between saving their own life or the person next to them..." he tried off, grimacing slightly from the mental pictures that accompanied the words. "No one actually died, but he made them think otherwise and recorded their reactions. His methods didn't become this drastic until not long before he was found out, however. "

Considering that none of his previous victims died because of his actions, it was safe to say that whatever held him back from sacrificing human life was disregarded sometime during his stay in prison.

"How long did he get away with doing that?" Hughes asked as his eyes swept over some of the papers that laid across the desk.

"Overall, about two months," Roy answered promptly. "According to the records, he started threatening people's lives about a week before he was arrested, however."

"How is that possible?" Ed cut in, doing an admirable job at keeping his disgust under wraps.

"Riece was smart about which of his clients he subjected to this. Picked out the weaker ones, it seems. It was suspected that he used forms of blackmail to keep them quiet, but this was never confirmed." Roy idly wondered if he could have connected the dots sooner if he remembered such similarities in the two cases.

"As time went on, he began to cause physical harm to some of his clients as well as psychological. Near the end, he actually locked three of them at his office for several days. By the time they were found, it looked as if they had been tortured."

He was going to explain that one of them was found in a coma, another was missing several fingers, and the third ended up in an asylum afterwards, but noticing how Ed stiffened at the mention of torture made him skip that part.

Roy leaned forward and stared down at the papers in his hands as the others murmured amungst themselves. He paid no mind to them, far too occupied with digging up old forgotten facts. From the looks of it, the three unlucky victims all lived alone and were not particularly social, which explained why they were able to disappear for so long.

"East Command must be glad to know that we found him," Hawkeye pointed out.

"The person I was talking to from East Command said the parol officers lost all traces of him not long after he got released," Hughes explained. "There have been no reports of him being seen at any of the train stations either."

Roughly three seconds of an anticipating silence stretched on after Hughes finished his statement.

"Oh," Roy whispered as he noticed a familiar name within the report. The interest in his tone recaptured the attention of his surrounding team, and he automatically began to explain. "One of the people who he locked up was an acquaintance of Victor Tresler. It seems they had plans to meet a few days after getting captured. When he realized his friend was missing, Tresler did some digging and discovered what Riece was up to, and then called the military to the scene."

"And that's where you came in," Hughes mused with a thin, weary smile as he folded his arms in contemplation.

"Wait," Edward spoke up with a hint of unease in his tone. "You?"

Roy nodded. "I was the one who arrested him four years ago."

The blond said nothing in response, but they were both clearly thinking the same thing. All of this was because of the entertainment Riece got out of mentally torturing people as well as wanting to get revenge on Roy and Tresler for bringing an end to his fun. Judging by how he operated back then, the colonel would wager that he looked for the weakest looking member of Roy's inner circle, which so happened to be Ed, and then proceeded to dig for weaknesses in him as well. In the end, he wanted to kill Roy in one of the most twisted ways he could think of; by manipulating his own terrified, desperate subordinate. Getting Tresler involved in the process was his way of killing two bird with one stone.

In that very moment as Roy glared down at his desk, he decided that he would personally make that man pay.

"So," Fuery chipped in. "This is the guy who murdered Victor Tresler?"

Roy felt Ed's eyes on him as he looked up at the young sergeant master. "That's the consensus," he replied lightly.

"What else does it say?" Edward spoke up again, eager to get the topic away from blame.

The colonel considered the teenager for a moment before continuing to skim through the files.

"Here's something," he said under his breath as he re-read the passage. "It seems he has a daughter: Sophia Riece."

"What?" Edward stared at the papers from across the desk blankly for a moment before trailing his eyes back up to meet the colonel's. He looked as if he wasn't sure if he should speak with the others listening in, but Roy gave him a slight nod to tell him that it was okay. The blond remained hesitant for a moment longer, then pushed past his reluctance.

"Last time I saw Al, he told me Riece tricked him by saying he needed help finding his missing daughter. I always thought he just made her up, but..."

Roy absorbed the information quickly, then looked up to address the rest of his staff. "I want every shred of information on Sophia Riece as soon as possible. She might be able to lead us to her father."

His order was met with a motivated chorus of "yes sir'"s and the majority of his audience hurried to get to work. Edward watched them with a curious and confused expression as if seeing them work was the most surprising thing he had witnessed all week. That was probably not too far off from the truth, but Roy was certain there was more to it. For not the first time that day, he found himself wondering what the kid was thinking, but again pushed the thought aside for some other time.

Before leaving to do her own work, Hawkeye took a step closer to his desk. "Colonel Douglas will want to know about this," she informed calmly.

Roy suppressed an annoyed groan at the mention of that thorn in his side, but somehow found it in himself to only sigh. "I'll deal with him later."

The blonde nodded, then continued on her way.

Now that the team had been given a task, Edward looked a little lost. He didn't know his way around the military record system as well and therefore could not offer much help to the professionals who all knew the process by heart. Knowing that Ed wanted nothing more than to help in the search for his brother, Roy mentally went through the list of things that needed to get done.

"Fullmetal."

The blond whirled around to face him as the colonel pulled out a brand new map of the city and spread it out.

"I'm going to see if we can track any of Riece's movements and possibly pinpoint his general location. So I need you to tell me every place you have seen him."

Edward agreed eagerly and immediately looked over the map to recite addresses. As they went to work on placing pins in the map, all sense of worry began to vanish within minutes.

* * *

With an inhale, the cold, frosty air freely streamed down his throat and chilled his lungs. With an exhale, the same breath of air formed a misty cloud as it escaped his lips, then dissipated into nonexistence.

Edward scanned his eyes over the snow-covered courtyard for the third time since he had stepped outside. He kept looking as if he expected something to be different, but what he saw had not changed in the slightest. It was always the same. A familiar field made different solely by the fresh coating of snow.

He was the only one standing out there, as everyone else would much rather avoid the unfavorable weather by remaining in the safety of the indoors. Edward didn't have it in him to blame them for a moment.

His automail ports ached and the cold nearly burned the skin that touched them. He was shivering despite his multiple layers, but it wasn't quite enough to send him back inside. Ed had remained in the office for a while longer after finishing the little job Mustang tasked him with, but he eventually felt the need to get some fresh air, away from the activity.

Ed thought that was strange; not long ago, he was constantly itching to make progress on finding Riece and therefore Al but now that he had the opportunity, he decided to leave it to the others. Of course, it wasn't fair for him to compare those situations to each other. When he was working alone to find his brother, nothing would have gotten done if he took a break. But this time around, the results would most likely be the same whether he was in there to help or not.

The alchemist was freed from his musing by the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow from behind. He felt no need to turn around to see who it was, so he instead continued to face the expanse of the courtyard as if he hadn't noticed. The steps came to a stop besides him and he saw black in the corner of his eye. Still, his eyes did not leave the stretch of white before him.

"What are you doing?" Mustang's steady, deep voice inquired calmly.

Edward spared a moment to seriously consider the question. But after a few seconds filled only by the crisp wind blowing through the lifeless trees ahead, he simply rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

"Getting some air, I guess," he eventually replied.

"You guess?" The man echoed his statement with a touch of amusement in his tone.

When Ed only replied with a terse "yep", Mustang turned his head towards the kid to study him carefully. Nothing was said for several long yet somehow comfortable seconds.

"You've been quite helpful today, you know."

The blond blinked, then slowly turned to look up at his superior officer. "... Is that sarcasm?" he asked slowly. He didn't catch anything but honesty in his voice, but Mustang was not one to give out unearned compliments. Ed certainly didn't feel like he had done much, seeing as they still did not have enough information to gather much from the points on the map he had pinned down earlier.

"No," he replied factually and turned back to face the deserted courtyard. "I suppose you wouldn't have known, but they haven't gotten this much work done since before you disappeared."

Edward followed his gaze and stared at the view blankly, already lost in his memories from earlier that day. The team certainly seemed quite upbeat since he arrived. Even Hawkeye seemed visibly happier than usual, which was really saying something since he has rarely ever seen her smile. He never stopped to think that his missing presence could have effected their work ethic.

The comment left him nearly at a loss for words. With nothing else in mind, he decided to just keep the conversation going as a new thought occurred.

"Did they find anything yet?"

Mustang nodded, breathing into his hands, then folded his arms to keep in as much heat as possible. "Sophia Riece was found dead about a month ago."

Ed snapped his focus up to the colonel's unreadable expression. "A month ago? But that was when Riece was released from prison, wasn't it?"

"That's where it gets interesting," he said with a grim smile. "Sophia's body was found in her apartment the night before Markus was released. Investigators decided it was suicide."

Edward felt all the remaining warmth get sapped from his body, leaving him numb. He gaped slightly as he stared wide-eyed in Mustang's general direction. "...Why?" he eventually asked, mouth gone dry.

"We don't know for certain yet, but it's most likely heavily related to her father. She was a guard at the prison he was kept at. We made some phone calls and learned that they spoke often enough but didn't seem to have a very good relationship. But despite that, it was she who somehow arranged for him to get out."

The blond tilt his head and shoved his hands into his pockets, spinning the new information around in his head but unable to make much sense of it. He wondered why Sophia would have her insane father released from prison if they weren't very close- unless she was acting the entire time, but then why did she kill herself afterwards?

Perhaps Riece was manipulating his daughter. But still, even that felt difficult to swallow. He couldn't imagine anyone doing something so horrid to their own family, but Ed was yet to decide if that included someone as obviously vile as Markus Riece.

"Doesn't make any sense," Ed sighed and shook his head. There were countless possibilities, but no way to discern what was true until more information presented itself.

"I'm certain it will in time."

He didn't need to think twice to know that Mustang truly meant that.

"I hope it's soon. I'm worried about Al," he spoke quietly, his voice almost lost in the gust of wind that swept past them. Ed knew Mustang didn't have any words of encouragement and he wasn't expecting any, but he did appreciate it when a supportive, gloved hand appeared on his shoulder.

Ed paused a moment, debating with himself on whether or not he should speak, then ultimately decided to as he pivoted his head to look at the colonel. He wasn't sure what kind of expression he had, but he was fairly certain it didn't look as undaunted as he would have hoped.

"You said that... Reice tortured people... Do you think that Al-" He cut himself off as his ability to speak suddenly fled from him.

"Hey," Mustang started as he turned Ed by the shoulder to face him. His visage was stern but there was concern underneath, easily noting the fear that flashed in the kid's eyes. "Thoughts like that won't do you any good."

"But what if it's true? What if Al's hurt? What if-"

"Alphonse is a suit of armor; there's almost nothing Riece can do to hurt him."

Edward dropped his gaze to the snow between the two alchemists and bit the inside of his lip.

Mustang sighed. "I know he's not invincible, but he is very strong. Besides, Al knows you're looking for him. It's only a matter of time now before we find him.

Ed did and said nothing for what felt like many long seconds. Memories from his last meeting with Al's kidnapper came back to the front of his mind; he was told to kill Mustang or Al would pay the price, but then he went and got himself thrown in jail. He had hoped Riece would translate that to mean he _tried_ to follow through on the orders and would spare Alphonse whatever payment he had planned. But now that it was being announced that he was "innocent", he again had to fear for his brother's safety.

But still, Mustang was right. He knew it was always a possibility that Riece managed to hurt Alphonse but he couldn't afford to let that slow him down. He needed to trust in his brother's resistance.

"I know," Edward eventually replied with a slight nod. "I know."

The hand on his shoulder tightened comfortingly for a moment, drawing his eyes back up to meet the colonel's.

"Good," he said with an endearing smile.

Within a fraction of a second, something subtle came over Mustang's expression that gave Ed the impression he wanted to go back inside, but before he could get the words out, something distracted him from the thought of leaving.

"So what's the real reason you're not wearing your red coat?"

Ed blinked mutely for a moment, surprised he had taken the time to even consider such a detail. After quickly composing himself, he smirked warily. "Thought you'd be glad, since you always say it's loud and obnoxious."

"It is," Mustang agreed readily, earning himself a lighthearted glare from the teenager. "But that coat defines you. It's strange to see you without it."

"You're calling me loud and obnoxious?"

"Yes."

"Bastard."

In response to the common insult, the older alchemist grinned and fought to withhold laughter. Edward wasn't entirely sure why, but the response mildly surprised him. The last time he stood on military grounds with the colonel, there was a large glass wall in-between them at all times. After-hours and on weekends was one thing, but clearly seeing that that wall had evaporated even at the workplace was somewhat odd. However, Ed couldn't say that he minded.

The blond shrugged meekly. "It's stupid, but... at the beginning, part of the reason why I stopped wearing that coat was because I didn't want to look at it after this was all behind me and think about all that has happened. I didn't want it to be affiliated with Al getting kidnapped and- and everything else... But now, I haven't really thought about that possibility much; like it doesn't matter anymore. But it feels like since I had that mindset going into this, I have to commit until Al is found."

Mustang nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough."

"Pretty dumb, right?" Ed asked rhetorically, keeping his gaze somewhat downcast.

"I don't think so," Mustang answered lightly without missing a beat, attracting the blond's attention back up to him curiously. "I actually think there's something respectable about it."

Edward gave him a strange look, almost incredulously. "How's that?"

The colonel shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure. But I suppose we'll find out."

"What kind of cop-out answer is that?" Edward scoffed dubiously.

"It's the only answer you're going to get for now," he replied with knowing grin. "Now let's get back inside before one of us gets frostbite."

The blond only clicked his tongue in mock annoyance. In actuality, he was fairly certain that Mustang had another answer but was only too eager to get out of the snow.

"Good idea," Edward relented with a nod as he crossed his arms, deciding to let the matter go.

In hindsight, it probably was not a great idea to go outside in the first place while wearing a raincoat. It wasn't exactly made to fight the cold and it certainly did his automail no favors.

The two alchemists began walking the short distance back to the building, ignoring the snowflakes that followed them. Mustang's hand did not move from the kid's shoulder, causing Ed to consider saying some retort about not needing help to get back to the building. But before he got the chance to comment, he noticed he was shivering and felt himself pressing lightly into the colonel's side. He wasn't exactly sure how that happened, but he didn't have the mind to complain. Mustang certainly did not seem bothered by the small gesture anyway.

Edward knew he would not be content until Alphonse was safe once again and Riece was no longer a concern, but he couldn't quite deny the joy it brought him to be back at the office around people who truly wanted to help. He doubted them all not very long ago and pushed them away, but simply looking at the present banished any remaining fear and doubt. Not a single person blamed him or held any resentment towards him for his actions.

He should have expected that as soon as he realized that the entire team would have to believe that he did not kill Tresler. Maybe he didn't deserve it, but at least for the moment, Ed was willing to enjoy it. He was willing to let himself be happy.

Even as a part of his mind told him that he was wrong to do so, Edward let himself smile as he walked back inside alongside the colonel.


	24. Chapter 24

Exactly one week had passed since Edward was arrested by the military. He did not have any particular desire to remember that date and would much rather forget about it, but he couldn't help but recall how noticeably empty Central Command became on the weekends.

The thought occurred to him only as he entered the base's cafeteria and was briefly confused to see so few people around during that time of day. Every soldier he had passed that day had a despondent air about them, as if they would much rather be anywhere else. Given that they were unlucky enough to come into work on a Saturday, that was understandable.

He supposed the fact that the rest of Mustang's team didn't currently carry the same depressed aura was why he even managed to forget that today was any different than a normal weekday. Usually, he would expect some of them to complain at least for a moment, but that just showed how invested in the case they had become.

Since Ed's return, they had spent every day searching relentlessly for signs of Riece. So far, not much had come up after learning he had a daughter, so they were actively looking for every distant relative and acquaintance that may have come into contact with him over the past month. It was not Edward's field of expertise, so he left it up to the experts for now.

Their dedication was a touching thought, but far from the top on his list of concerns at the moment.

Edward left the office primarily to get a cup of water but he also had half a mind to grab a snack as well. The team occasionally went down for lunch as a group, but that was not the case today.

While he would have preferred the company, he wasn't about to let that stop him from walking around. Simply put, the stares of the people who strayed through the halls was much more manageable when he wasn't alone. It was pure stubbornness that prompted him out of the office to begin with, but he couldn't deny how much he disliked it. He no longer had an excuse to hide, but everyone without exception would watch him as he walked by.

This wasn't just the military. Even the brief time spent out in the city consisted of just more blatant stared. Convincing himself that every person who he accidentally made eye contact with didn't actually know about what he had really done was proving to be more difficult than anticipated.

It was stupid.

But at least the cafeteria was empty for once. He chose to enjoy the peace while it lasted.

He approached the water cooler that was sitting alone in the corner and filled one of the small plastic cups. After taking a gratifying gulp and filling the cup once more, he moved over to the line of food options. There was no one attending the area and the scarce amount of choices may had gone cold by then. While slightly discouraged, that wasn't enough for Edward to change his mind. Instead of jumping up to the start of the line as he often did, the blond instead sat down at a nearby table and weighed his options.

Chicken was never good unless it was hot, and neither was soup. The bread looked fine, but he needed something more sustaining. Maybe the sandwiches were still good. They have probably been sitting out all day, but Ed was still more than willing to eat them.

While Edward was focusing on mentally preparing his lunch, he paid very little attention to the sound of footsteps entering the large room. However, he was not expecting to be startled by something being thrown onto his table followed by the sensation of people standing behind him.

He jumped slightly and turned his head just as four uniformed men walked around the table, surrounding it. It took him only a fraction of a second to notice the smug grins on their stupid faces, looking down at him expectantly.

Ed was about to demand what the hell they wanted, but his tongue was stilled as he caught sight of what was tossed onto the table in front of him.

It was the latest newspaper, showcasing his face on the front page once again.

He stared at his reflection for a moment, then glared up at the man who stood directly opposed from him, most likely the ringleader. He looked vaguely familiar, but Ed couldn't quite place it.

"Hello Fullmetal," the soldier sneered. "Enjoying your freedom?"

 _Oh._  Now it made sense. Every person in the little group that surrounded him were Douglas' lackeys. They saw him in some of his more weaker moments and must have assumed that he was still like that; that they could just walk up to him and hope to be intimidating. Little did they knew that Ed had no intention of putting up with their crap.

Edward released the most exasperated, annoyed sigh he could muster. "Is this going to take long? I have things to do," he said as he cast the leader an impatient, bored stare.

The man facing him gave his friends an amused glance, then sat down at the table, prompting the others to do so as well.

"We'll be sure not to take up too much of your time."

Edward scowled as the man picked up the newspaper and turned it towards himself to look at the title page. "We were just wondering if you've seen the paper yet," he said, turning it back to the blond.

He tried not to read it, but his eyes caught the bold text anyway.

_The Fullmetal Alchemist Relieved From Suspection For Victor Tresler's Murder_

"You must be pretty happy about this." the man asked casually as the others snickered to themselves. Edward must have missed the joke, because he didn't see what was so funny. "Congrats, by the way, for not being imprisoned for life on the accounts of murder. You're proud of yourself, right?"

Ed's glare shifts from the paper to the man holding it, then back to the paper. What were they trying to achieve by approaching him like a group of playground bullies? Were they just upset that their boss's hunch wasn't correct? But no, it seemed like it was more than that. They were planning something.

"...Yeah" he replied in a deadpan tone after several tense seconds.

The leader of them chuckled cynically. "I bet, since you were able to pull one over everyone's eyes like that."

Edward paused and kept his mouth snapped shut. As the response he was waiting for did not come, the soldier's arrogant smile fell as he studied the teenager.

"I don't know how you managed to convince the Fuhrer that you're innocent," he began, now with a much colder demeanor. However, his overall amusement was still present. "But we've seen the evidence. We've seen that guilt in your eyes during the questioning. You think you can act all high and mighty now that you've gotten off scot-free?"

Ed did not answer the rhetorical question. He couldn't defend himself very easily when everything they said sounded true.

 _Was_ it true? Was that really all it was? He had just wormed his way out of the judgment he rightfully deserved. In the back of his mind, he had been trying to deny it since he was first released. He only repeated the excuses that others have given him; the very same excuses that he never quite believed.

"Well think again. Colonel Douglas doesn't think you're as innocent as you say, and neither do we."

He met the man's challenging gaze before his eyes were drawn to his rank. A major, apparently. That explained it; he was high enough in the ladder as to where he was more willing to show such aberrant behavior like openly dismissing the Fuhrer's decision, and was not yet high enough to begin kissing up to the man. Around the rank where Mustang began planning his own ultimate grab for power, ironically enough. It seemed to be a rather rebellion stage in military soldiers.

The major leered at Edward from across the table, baiting for a response. But sadly for him, Ed did not have much to say. They were right, but he was no in position to clearly confirm or deny it.

"What exactly are you trying to achieve here?" he asked slowly with a narrowed, dubious glare.

He received only a tense silence for what felt like several seconds. The others who sat around the table had a variety of expressions that ranged from entertained to spiteful.

"You embarrassed our boss, as well as us. And for what?" he snapped sharply as Ed fought not to react. "Just so you could continue to play the role of the child prodigy- the youngest State Alchemist in history."

Edward hated to admit that his words held some weight. However, there was more to this situation than the major would ever know. But what could he do about it- just sit back and take it? He couldn't quite go off on them as he usually would, since he had nothing to say; no words could possibly back him up. Anything he could try to say would either be a lie, or sound pathetic.

No, he didn't want to listen anymore.

"Are you done yet?" he asked, aiming to sound impatient but mutely cursed himself when his voice nearly wavered.

The man gave him a long stare with an expression he didn't care to read. After a moment, the uniformed man leaned over the table slightly with his arms propped on the surface.

"Let's get something clear," he started quietly as Ed's eyes snapped back up to him without realizing they had first drifted. "You may be off the hook for the rest of the nation, but as far as we're concerned, you're still a prime suspect. Don't think you're safe just yet."

Edward returned his stare for as long as he could before finally firmly placing both hands on the table to push himself up.

"I don't have time for this," he said softly through his teeth and promptly turned away from them to make his exit.

"Where you going, Fullmetal?" one of them asked as he heard the sound of them all standing up as well.

Ed kept his eyes trained on the set of double doors, quickening his stride as he recognized footsteps behind him. They wanted to follow him. The rate of his pulse began to race faster as he was reminded of the sensation of being chased by wild animals.

"You can't run from the truth," another one of them felt the need to say just as the blond reached the door.

Before they could add anything else, he stepped through and shut the door behind him, alchemically jamming it without any thought. Before they could figure out what he had done and find a way through it, he turned and began pacing down the hall, his speed increasing with every step.

He was running away. It was cowardly and childish and he berated himself for it, but he just wanted to get away from them; away from the truth that they threw into his face.

And so Ed continued until he turned a corner and heard the door further back get forced open as well as their annoying voiced echoing down the corridor. In a last ditch effort to avoid another one-sided conversation, he turned into the least important door he could see and shut it behind him, trapping himself in darkness.

As more footsteps traveled through the hall, the blond slid his back down the wall besides the door and folded his arms, staring blankly into the emptiness before him. He couldn't see anything besides the thin sliver of light that escaped through underneath the door, but he was quite alright with that.

Edward remained quiet as he heard them pass the door he was hiding behind.

He had countless confrontations like that before, but he was usually free to say and do exactly what he wanted to. Especially after he first joined the military, there were many who were very open about their disagreement. Multiple over-confident officers tried to scare him out, assuming he was nothing but a docile child. Edward never hesitated to show them the error of their ways and eventually, they left him alone.

But this time was different.

No amount of repetitively convincing himself that they were wrong would change his mind. No amount of insisting to himself that he needed to be here would change the fact that did something so incredibly inhumane and wrong.

In the past, they said he was too young and weak to survive in the military. They told him that lifestyle would chew him up and spit him out. Those were all simple predictions and assumptions. Edward had the power to prove that they were wrong.

But now, Ed had nothing to prove. They were right.

_They were right._

Ed never stopped to consider how long he had been sitting in what appeared to be a utility closet. He didn't really care at the moment. Not once did his mind stray over to the possibility that other people would be wondering where he was or what he was doing. He's never really had much of a reason to consider such things, except for Al and more recently, Mustang.

The thought only briefly flashed across his mind when he heard a click to his left and saw light slowly flood into the darkness. Ed instinctively pushed himself further towards the corner in a vain hope to simply disappear from sight as the fear of being mocked ensnared his mind.

However, that fear began to dissipate once he recognized the silhouette.

"Ed?" the familiar voice asked. The voice that he had come to associate with safety.

"What?" Edward asked as casually as he could manage, almost as if he wasn't just found sitting in a dark closet by his superior officer.

Part of his mind knew that he should have felt ashamed. He should have stood up and defended himself and do everything in his power to just not appear weak. But he supposed since it was only Mustang, it didn't matter. He had long since gotten past that point. He didn't even need to manually shut his pride off this time, because it did so automatically.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Nothing," Ed said with a false nonchalant shrug.

The blond felt eyes on him from the silhouette and turned away from him to look at the nothing before him. After a short moment, Mustang flipped a switch and the single bulb flickered on, assaulting Edward's unsuspecting eyes with a seemingly harsh light.

Just as he assumed, he was surrounded by mops, brooms, and trash bags.

Mustang reeled back and cast a inquisitive glance down the hall before stepping inside the closet and closing the door behind him. He then lowered himself to sit besides the younger alchemist and crossed his legs.

"Alright; tell me what happened."

Ed scoffed and stared at the wall. "What makes you think something happened?" He knew that was a stupid question as soon as it left his mouth.

Clearly thinking the very same thing, Mustang gave him a dubious look. "You leave to get some water and I find you sitting in a closet half an hour later. Something obviously happened."

"How'd you even find me anyway?"

"It didn't take long once I started asking around. Something tells me you were not being very stealthy."

Edward decided not to grace that one with an answer. Looking back on it, he never really thought to consider the people in the hallway when he was looking for an escape route. He supposed seeing him hastily duck into a closet would look like a strange sight to anyone who actually knew where the door led. It was a good thing that Douglas' team didn't decide to ask if anyone had seen him during their chase.

"So?" Mustang prompted again when the blond remained quiet.

Ed huffed and considered telling the colonel that it was nothing to concern himself with, but he knew from experience that that never got him anywhere. He didn't want to explain the whole scene to him, but that was not because he was particularly embarrassed about it. Rather, he didn't want to acknowledge to himself that it happened.

But when Mustang was involved, there was no avoiding that.

"Some guys who work for Douglas showed up and said they're still convinced that I- I killed Tresler. Said I embarrassed them, so they're not gonna stop looking into it."

"I see..." Mustang muttered lowly beside him. His annoyance was evident through the slight narrowing his eyes and the setting of his jaw. "I suppose thinking that everyone would simply move on after Bradley got involved was too good to be true."

Ed pulled one of his legs up to himself and idly wrapped his arms around it.

"I don't understand it," he stated slowly as he dropped his chin onto his knee. "Sure, maybe I unintentionally made them look bad. But why go through all the trouble of singling me out? Since when have people from Central cared about doing what's right over their orders?"

Mustang scoffed lightly, attracted Ed's attention over to him. "Since when have you become so cynical?" he asked with a thin smile.

He shrugged and turned his gaze back to set on the opposing wall. That was just how it was. People who called each other allies worked restlessly to destroy each other, all to gain more power. At the end of the day, Mustang was not much different, but at least he still had some sense of morals.

"Well, I don't mean to be Douglas' advocate, but think about it like this: if our positions were reversed, I wouldn't be surprised if the rest of my team decided to do the very same thing. Except, they'd likely be smarter about it."

Ed couldn't deny that it made some sense. If there was someone that Mustang was trying to catch who then was announced innocent when he was still certain they were not, that would surely enrage all of them. Especially if that person appeared back at HQ the very next day.

"I may be able to empathize," Mustang went on, "but that doesn't mean I'm alright with their actions."

"You're not going to get involved, right?" Ed asked tentatively with a distasteful grimace. "Don't get involved. It's not a big deal. I don't even care about what they're trying to do."

"Which is why you're hiding in a closet?"

Edward felt himself flush, then quickly glared at the colonel. "Shut up."

Mustang chuckled and placed his arm over Ed's shoulders, who was still sulking to himself.

"No promises," he said, ignoring the blond's blunt retort. "I can't just sit by with the knowledge that someone is trying to make one of my subordinates look bad."

Edward smiled thinly, but said nothing. Leave it to Mustang to make it seem like appearances were all that mattered. Underneath, they were both aware that it was much more than that, but it went without saying.

"Come on, let's get back to the office."

The blond nodded and unfolded his arms. He felt a light pat on his shoulder before the older alchemist moved to stand up. Ed did the same and they both exited the cramped closet. Luckily, the hall was devoid of life; that would have been a slightly difficult sight to explain.

Ed vaguely remembered that half the reason he went to the cafeteria in the first place was to get something to eat, but his apatite had vanished somewhere along the road. He didn't particularly mind, as he had no desire to return back there at the moment, lest he run into some unwelcome company again.

The walk back towards the safe haven of the office was a quiet one. One look at Mustang told the blond that he was currently occupied with many distracting thoughts at the moment. Ed settled for looking out the windows that occupied the large halls.

The sun was shining brightly behind the dark clouds, casting a dull light onto the city. He was glad the heavy rainstorm had stopped, but not much felt different now that it was snowing steadily and probably would do so until spring. After weeks of foul weather, if was safe to say that Ed had grown tired of it. He missed the sun and warmth of Resembool...

Ed shook his head, banishing that thought away from the front of his mind. Memories of home were still difficult to revisit after all that had happened. Now certainly wasn't the best time to duel with those concerns anyway.

He drew his focus back to the present and cast a curious glance around him, just as the two alchemists were passing the hall that led straight to the Fuhrer's office. Realizing that he wanted to be far away from there, Ed quickened his pace and hoped Mustang would catch the hint and do the same.

"Ah, Colonel Mustang!" A greeting caused them both to pause and Ed just barely kept himself from cursing under his breath.

The older man beside him snapped into a salute, silently forcing Edward to do the same, albeit more hesitantly.

"At ease," Bradley waved dismissively as he approached the two with several guards following close behind. "I intended to simply send a message to your office but it's convenient that you just so happened to be in the area."

"Sir?" Mustang asked curiously after lowering his right arm.

"I'd like to inform you that Colonel Douglas has been transferred to a different case, so dealing with Victor Tresler's murder is now entirely up to you once again."

Edward paused and stared blankly into space, unsure if he heard correctly.

Mustang composed himself much quickly.

"Why is that, if I may ask?"

"Because of the newest development in the case, it seems two colonels are no longer required. Besides, his assistance is more needed in West City for the time being, now that Creta has become more restless lately."

"I see," the alchemist replied easily. Ed glanced up at him in the corner of his eye and mentally commented on how well he withheld any and all signs of emotion, besides mild interest. "Thank you for informing me, sir."

"Now if you will excuse me, I must get going," the Fuhrer began as he started to move past the two. "I wish you the best with that, Colonel. And you as well, Fullmetal."

Before either could so much as consider giving a response, Bradley was off, leaving two stunned State Alchemists behind him.

"So. Douglas is getting transferred," Mustang mused with a victorious smirk shamelessly slipping onto his expression. "It seems Bradley realized that he would only slow this case down."

Edward recalled the colonel's conversation with the Fuhrer the other day where he insinuated that Douglas was only getting in his way. The blond was surprised to see that something was actually done about such a subtle complaint.

"And it looks like I solved your newest problem before I even knew about it," the man remarked, nearly radiating self-satisfaction.

"Yeah," he replied absentmindedly as they continued their walk to the office. While it felt strange to see something get handled so quickly, he wondered if there was something else behind it too.

What were the chances that Douglas and/or his team voiced their continued suspicion regarding Ed's involvement in the murder? Bradley clearly didn't want the young alchemist to get into trouble for whatever reason, so perhaps he chose to forcefully remove them from the picture before they could stir up trouble.

A small, cold pit formed on his stomach as a whisper told him that he would never know for sure.

Overall, Edward wasn't sure how he felt about it. Was it fair for him to inadvertently get so many people re-positioned because of his lie?

No. Not in the slightest. But he had to. He was set on this path and could not diverge from it, for Al's sake.

As Mustang mutely beamed at having bested his opponent, Ed tried to smother his guilt and perhaps share in that victory, even if it felt hallow to him. He needed to take what he could get. Lately, it seemed like whenever things were beginning to go his way, something much worse would come right around the corner.

"Hey Ed," the colonel cut through his thoughts as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah?" He inquired and glanced up at him. The man still looked overjoyed by the newest revelation, but he also looked tired; as if he just realized was finally given a moment to breath.

"I'm going to get a drink tonight."

The blond barely withheld an amused chuckle and nodded instead. He wasn't quite sure if Mustang was going to celebrate or to wind down, but either way, he probably deserved it.

* * *

It was finally ready.

After days or maybe even weeks (he had no idea) of carefully timed, precise work, it was finally complete. The small yet vital transmutation circle that Al had carved into the old brick wall behind him was whole at last and was just waiting to be activated.

If Alphonse had a real body, he was sure he would have been itching to use the array. The only problem was that he had not seen Riece for several hours now, which had only recently become strange. The man persisted to visit him regularly and for long periods of time and continued to remain quite cheerful each and every occation.

The choice that was laid out before him was absolutely nerve-wrecking. There was no way to know if it would be best to put his plan into action now, or wait for Riece to come and go again. So much time had passed since the suit of armor last saw his captor and expected him to show up at any minute now. It was possible that he would be caught in the act. Even after activating the circle in order to stretch out the metal, he wouldn't have enough to properly defend himself. Not until he got more, anyway. And even so, he still wasn't quite sure how Riece had dismantled him last time; he would rather not risk it.

But the idea of waiting brought along it's own set of worries as well. The chances of Riece seeing the circle before he could use it had not increased by much since he began working on it, as his body continued to effectively obscure it from view. But one more meeting had the potential to ruin everything. Could he dare risk it?

Then again, acting too quickly and rashly often got the Elrics into trouble. Sure, that was more Ed's problem than Al's, but...

His train of thought ended abruptly as he caught the sound of footsteps nearing down the stairs. Alphonse hastily adjusted his weight to ensure the array was hidden, then steadied his focus on the door.

With the same creak that he had heard countless times now, the old wooden door swung open and his kidnapper stepped into view as he flicked on the light switch. The brown, dusty light bulb struggled to brighten the room, highlighting the cobwebs that occupied each corner and frightening a nearby rat back into hiding.

"Hello again, Alphonse," Riece greeted easily as he strolled in.

The man slid over the same wooden chair that he used every time he came in and took a seat. Holding his dear notepad loosely in one hand, he smartly crossed his legs and gave the kid the same earnest smile that he had grown to strongly dislike.

"I have some information for you that I believe you will find  _very_ interesting."

Al was at least thankful that he was cutting to the chase for once, instead of wasting both their time with pointless small talk. However, he could almost feel the chills run down his hypothetical spine from the way Riece spoke.

If this was anything like his last piece of information, then he wasn't sure if he could handle it this time.

Since he was told that Brother apparently got arrested possibly for attacking Colonel Mustang, Riece had missed no opportunities to remind him of that. He would not stop talking about it. He even went so far as to explain how the general public was reacting to the news. He said anything to ensure that Al was thinking about it.

But no- no, he couldn't think about it. He hated to think that Ed actually tried to hurt the Colonel- and maybe even did hurt him. And that's not to mention the blood that was possibly on his hands now.

Although, how could he justify all of this pointless fretting when it was his brother who was suffering the most? If any of what he had heard was even remotely true, then Al couldn't begin to fathom what Edward was going through, emotionally and psychologically.

That alone wasn't enough to fend off the fear that appeared every single time he let his guard down. Every moment one of those thoughts managed to sneak past his defenses, he became terrified for too many reasons to grasp.

No matter what, he would not give Riece the satisfaction of knowing that. Even as his captor appeared eager to share his news, Alphonse steeled himself and expected the worst.

Apparently growing accustomed to Al's lack of responses, the older man went on without hesitation.

"You'll be glad to know that Edward has gotten himself out of jail," the man explained happily as he flipped to a new page in his notes.

A surge of relief quickly flowed over, but Al held himself back from enjoying it too soon. Such good news for him shouldn't be good for Riece, right? His reaction put the kid at pause and made him hesitant.

As if he knew exactly what Alphonse was thinking, Riece's smile widened.

"He escaped just the other day. I assume he's too busy hiding to continue his search for you, but perhaps he'll get around to it eventually-"

"Escaped?" Al echoed incredulously without thought.

The kidnapper nodded and began to write something down. "I apologize that I don't have a newspaper for you this time, so you'll just have to take my word for it this time. Can you manage that much?"

There was something patronizing about the man's tone that he found to be surprisingly annoying. It was as if he was mocking Al's wariness, like it  _wasn't_  called for. He was quiet for a moment as he reigned in his irritation.

"So... is there any news about Colonel Mustang?"

Riece's eyes moved back to the suit of armor and considered him for a moment. "He was not mentioned."

Well that was good to know. At least he wasn't harmed. If Edward really broke out of a jail, he doubted his brother was very clean about it. He never considered the mess he left behind.

Not that Al thought it was possible for him to go after Mustang again. Because there was no way he would do that. He wouldn't persist to target the man after all that has happened. Even if he still thought that the younger Elric's life was on the line.

Surely.

Hopefully.

God, he hoped...

Besides that, Alphonse wasn't quite sure what to make of this. His heart ached for his brother's well-being, who was probably still hiding from the world, alone and afraid- pretending not to be afraid. Al wanted so badly to be there with him. To tell him that everything would be okay and then make it so, because that's exactly what Ed would do for him.

Edward didn't deserve to be chased down like a dog, no matter what he had done- no matter what he had been forced to do.

Maybe he really did kill someone. Maybe he did attack the colonel and got arrested and then broke out. But from where Al was, all of that seemed so far away. They were simple stories that were difficult to digest when he was disconnected from the rest of the world, even after seeing the newspapers. But regardless of the truth behind them, he didn't care.

Al still loved bis brother and would do anything to help him. Compared to the mountain of problems that stacked up against Edward, waiting a while longer for Riece to finish talking and go away was nothing.

* * *

Hours passed the same as they always have. Riece would talk and ask questions and poke at Al until he would answer. He would be forced to consider questions that he tried to lock away and ignore. But doing the course of all of these sessions, Alphonse had learned to shut himself off from the man to some degree. He could recite answers without putting too much thought and emotion into it, all to save himself the strife.

He began to think that his captor knew when he chose to do that, because the man usually fell silent or made his leave not long after it began.

Thankfully, this time was no different.

Riece finally left him be, leaving Al free to continue on with his escape attempt. He still felt somewhat rattled by the new information, but he would ensure that it would not slow him down.

If anything, his motivation to do so had only increased to new heights. He knew Ed was out there- somewhere- and he was going to find him and figure out what was happening. Once united, they would find a way to clear up this mess. They had to. He had to. He had to  _know_  what happened.

Alphonse waited for what he guessed was about an hour. Maybe half an hour, depending on how impatient he was feeling. But regardless, that should have been enough time for Riece to leave or fall asleep or whatever he did during the gaps.

And now for the moment that he had been anxiously waiting for.

After briefly reminding himself of what he was doing and the necessary equations and elements involved, he shifted into position and the circle lit up behind him. He saw the blue flash in the corner of his vision as it stretched along the brick wall and flooded past him, almost filling the room that had been left in the dark once more.

The energy of the array expertly shifted the metal in his body almost like a liquid, collecting as much material he could afford around his shoulders, and then outward to create replacement arms. He watched with increasing excitement as the metal built outward on itself until it created what could function as temporary limbs. He had to cut some corners in the design, but that was far from being one of his biggest concerns.

The light of the circle faded then died completely, leaving Alphonse back in the darkness. But after sitting in that basement for so long, he knew the layout well enough to maneuver. The opposing wall was lined with metal pipes that stretched into the ceiling; there was more than enough metal there to make some much needed legs.

Recalling the placement of the many obstructions in his way, the alchemist brought up a mental map and quickly figured out a path. But he had to be fast just in case Riece was still nearby.

With his new arms, Al pushed himself away from the wall. Gravity took over and his body quickly toppled to the ground with a muted clang, thanks to his outstretched hands catching his fall. He then began to drag himself forward, undoubtedly leaving marks as the metal scratched against the concrete.

He had to clumsily maneuver around boxed and abandoned furniture, but he eventually reached the other side. Alphonse grasped blindly for the pipes until he found them. While he was incapable of feeling anything, the ones in use would vibrate against the metal, allowing him to hear it when he pressed his own metal appendage against it. He would much rather avoid being bombarded with water the moment he deconstructed the pipe and chose one that had no movement inside.

Having put plenty of thought into this moment, Alphonse began scratching into the metal with the pointed fingertips that he had designed specially for that purpose. The design was simple enough that he had no problem with doing it in the dark, especially since it was small. Ensuring that is was properly rounded and precise did take some time, as he could not afford to rush it and mess up. However, the threat of Riece hearing the ruckus loomed overhead and grew like an angry cloud with every passing second.

His vision returned once again as the small array activated and glowed. The chosen pipe steadily deconstructed and reconstructed into the armor. Thankfully, the pipes were made of steel, which wasn't too different from the iron of the rest of his body. Joining the two to create legs was a simple task for the alchemist.

The blue light faded, giving Al only a second to examine his work. Once again, he skipped the more unnecessary designs, such as the spikes on the feet and knees. He considered sparing a moment to strengthen his arms after thinning out the armor earlier, but his nerves got the best of him and he decided to worry solely on getting out.

Alphonse pulled himself up to his newly created feet and blindly shuffled through the room once more. He had already predetermined which wall was more likely to lead to the outside, and eventually made his way there. He had also long since determined that he wouldn't risk going up the stares in case Riece was up there and waiting for him.

The young alchemist glided his hands across the surface to figure out how much space he wanted to use. Just before he got started, he turned around and glanced in the direction of the door for a nervous second as if Riece would appear and do something to stop him in that very moment. When nothing happened, he turned back to the wall and hastily began chipping away into the brick, creating another circle in the dark.

After many trails and hopefully no errors, Alphonse wasted no time activating the array. Again, the light filled the room, giving him a few precious seconds of sight. This circle was significantly larger than the other two, but it was relatively simple. A large gap was created in the brick wall, exposing the concrete behind it.

Al repeated the process, but this final array was to be more complicated. He fought the urge to constantly look back at the door as he grew more and more anxious, deciding to keep himself focused instead.

Once it was done, he quickly guided a finger over the scratched design, ensuring that every line intersected properly. At last, he took the final jump to freedom and pressed both hands against it.

With yet another bright glow, the wall began to morph. Instead of simply moving out of the way as before, the concrete extended outward into the earth that was behind it, creating a tunnel and steadily turned upwards, complete with hand grips.

From the end of the tunnel, a light slipped in. It did not appear to be very strong, but it was certainly sunlight. He heard the whistle of wind, and what might have been snowfall. He feared that his escape route did not quite reach the outside of whatever building he was trapped in, but it was relieving to see that was not the case.

A gentle, almost overlooked sound from above stole his attention away from his success, freezing Al to the spot before he could enter the transmuted tunnel. He just heard... something. Whether the house was just settling, a door creaked, something fell, or perhaps a footstep- whatever it was, that single sound skyrocketed Al's adrenaline rate.

There was absolutely no time to waste. It could have been nothing, but he was in no mood to wait and find out.

Alphonse swiftly climbed into the rounded tunnel and crawled forward and away from the empty blackness of the basement. As the transmuted walls around him turned upwards to the surface, he shifted himself to stand within the tight spot. As soon as he was able, he spotted the gaps that he left in order to climb and began to heave his iron body upwards.

On his way up, the alchemist looked at the sky as he drew closer to it. Never before had he been so glad to see clouds. There was a gray mist in the air but as he climbed up, he realized it was snow. The wind was blowing it wildly in one direction as remnants of it floated down into the tunnel.

At the moment, he did not care that he couldn't feel it. Al didn't care about any of that. He just wanted to be in it- he wanted to be outside, surrounded by color and movement and far, far away from that hell hole of a basement. And he was so  _close_.

Every step upwards increased his excitement and joy of the prospect of being free and alleviated more and more of the crippling trepidation that had constantly swirled around him since all of this began.

_Almost there. So close-_

A loud thud came from behind and echoed through the tunnel. A brief moment of mutual confusion, before finally:

"Alphonse! What do you think you're doing!?"

The enraged, minatory voice boomed up the tunnel. It was one that Al did not quite recognize, despite unwillingly spending so much time with the owner. It was Riece and he was  _furious._

Alphonse would usually feel like he could best the older man in a fight with ease, but he was still unsure of what the captor was quite capable of. But either way, something about the way he sounded told Al's instincts that it was time to get far away immediately.

He wasn't about to argue.

Pushing through the initial shock, Al reached for the edge and pulled himself up. He dug his elbow into the frozen surface and grasped into the snow and dirt until he could carry his body over the edge.

Usually, he would have cheered at finally freeing himself, but there was no time to waste. Al moved to stand up and cast a nervous glance down the void-like tunnel. He saw and heard nothing coming from below and could only assume that Riece was on his way back up the stairs to stop him.

Speaking of which; the suit of armor turned towards the building that had housed him for so long.

At first glance, it was a plain, normal house that blended in perfectly with its surroundings. From the outside, it appeared to have only one floor and had an old, beaten fence surrounding the property, leaving room for a comfortably sized backyard as well. The house, surrounding trees, and the yard were all caked in a layer of snow.

The alchemist turned his attention down the street to see a whole neighborhood that looked the same. But at second glance, each house was not in the best condition, including Riece's. Many of them looked abandoned with corroding doors and cracked windows.

He spun around again and saw taller buildings not too far into the distance. Alphonse assumed that he was taken to the outskirts of Central City, by the looks of it. It wasn't far. Brother wasn't far. He could make it!

Another door was shoved open behind him and Al didn't need to look back to know that his kidnapper was catching up to him. Luckily for Al, he had no problem with running trough a snow storm, unlike most.

And so, he ran.

His makeshift legs were not created with as much precision and care as originally, and so movement proved to be more difficult, but it was easy to ignore when he didn't physically feel it. His joints moved slower than what he was used to, but he only needed to be faster than Riece.

He didn't love the idea of simply running away from that man when he had as much confidence in his combat skills, but this was no time to prove a point. All he wanted to do was find Edward, and that was exactly what would happen.

He heard Riece calling out to him, but his voice was lost in the frosty winds that blew against them both. Al persisted, leaving heavy prints in the blanket of snow with every step. The wind was making it increasingly difficult to move as quickly as he wanted to; he began to fear that the man would actually catch up, but he didn't spare a moment to check. Instead, he decided to break the line of sight and hopefully lose him within the neighborhood.

Alphonse diverged from the side of the main road and ducked behind the fence of the nearest house. He continued around the yard, then turned again around another, then another, then another.

At least, he stopped behind the corner of a house that had a long awning stretching along the wall, protecting the ground and therefore him from the snow. He hoped to use it in order to throw Riece off of his tracks. Besides the house was another smaller road that went straight towards the city. He was drawing close to his destination, but still had a ways to go.

Before setting out again, Al decided to look back the way he came to see if he was being followed. It was unnerving to have no idea where the man was, as even the sound of crunching footsteps in the snow were lost to the wind.

He carefully glanced around the corner of the building, half expecting to see someone jump out and attack him the moment he did so. However, he saw nothing. Only the snow that continued to fill the air, as well as the wind that picked up the fallen flurry to create a gentle mist across the ground, and the dark clouds that covered the sky.

Al began to move back into the coverage just as he caught a soft shuffle from behind. He started to spin around with his arms help up defensively, but by then, it was too late.

A bright flash stole his vision for a crucial second, but he made out a familiar figure standing behind him just as control of his own body fled from him.

Confused and disoriented, Alphonse found himself looking at the ground. Staring back at him, was his own helmet.

His attention darted over to the legs that stepped into his view. Al tried to lash out at the man, but was unable. In fact, he spotted one of his arms laying a few inches away, detached from the rest of him as well. Every piece of him had fallen apart, leaving only the back plate under his control.

Just as Riece knelt down and smiled at him, he realized that this was exactly what happened last time. Riece did something to instantaneously dismantle the suit of armor, leaving him defenseless.

"Wh-what did you do?!" Al demanded, chagrined by the realization that he fell into the very same trap  _twice._ The last time this happened, he had no reason to expect an attack and never saw how it happened.

Time time, however, he recognized that familiar blue flash of light.

Riece was breathing heavily from the chase and was speckled with stray snow flakes. Unwilling to give a verbal response, he instead held up a small piece of paper loosely in his hand. Printed onto it was a complex transmutation circle. Recognizing the symbols of the array, Al knew he must have pressed the paper against his armor to dismantle him.

"You're an alchemist?" he asked frantically. He had no reason to believe that Riece knew anything about practical alchemy and assumed he didn't.

The man shook his head as he began to catch his breath. "Not quite," he said quietly, but signs of a satisfied smile remained. "I haven't studied it like you and your brother have. This is more or less the extent of my alchemic knowledge," he said, gesturing to the paper. "While you could have created this within a few minutes, it took me several hours to get it right."

The man sat back against the wall of the house and looked down at the blood seal.

"But it's a good thing I made extras, wouldn't you say?"

Al didn't reply, certain that he was still stunned and in shock.

"I must say, Alphonse," Riece continued as his breathing reverted back to a normal rate. "Because of this latest escape attempt, I have wasted so much time," he said, shaking his head. "I spent countless hours just drawing variations of this array around that house."

"That's what you were doing all that time?" Al asked, nonplussed. "Covering your house in traps?" That at least explained why he so suddenly started spending more time in the basement with him; he must have finished covering his house with arrays.

"That, and keeping an eye on Edward, of course. All of that work- wasted because you decided to bypass all of it." Riece sighed and began folding the piece of paper to fit into his pocket. "Well, I suppose I should congratulate you for managing to surprise me. Although it's fortunate that I decided to take precautionary measures just in case you managed to do so."

With a deep breath, the kidnapper rose to his feet and brushed off the snow from his clothes and hair. "Just think; you could have been nearing Central Command by now if it wasn't for that. But that would have ruined everything, especially since we're so close to the end," he explained, his excitement clearly ringing in his voice.

"... The end?" Al asked tentatively, unsure if he even wanted to know what the madman meant by that.

Riece nodded but did not proceed to explain. Instead, he approached the back plate of the armor, getting unnervingly close to the blood seal.

"Thankfully, this little episode of yours is not as much as an inconvenience as you may think. I would have been more mad at you, Alphonse, but this has actually gives me a good opportunity. You see, the military has been getting too close, and this will make things easier." The man shuffled through one of his pockets and pulled out a stick of chalk that had been nearly worn down.

"What are you doing?" Al questioned as a new plethora of fears rose to the surface at the sight of the chalk. "Stay away from me!"

"Oh, don't be like that," he chided jovially and took out the notes that he seemed to always have on him. He flipped through the pages, then knelt down by what remained of Alphonse.

"Wait- no, stop-"

Ignoring his objections, Riece grabbed onto the edge of the piece of armor and turned Al around so his vision was restricted to only look down at the snow. The man then began to draw something on his back with the chalk, stopping every few moments to look back at his notes.

An amateur alchemist was far too close to the blood seal- his only tie to life. Alphonse could not figure out what he was trying to do, but he didn't like it in the slightest. He was nearly shaking with horror as he heard the chalk scratch against the iron in predetermined shapes and lines.

"If only you were more cooperative, it wouldn't have to come to this. Both you and your brother had been more difficult than anticipated, but that's alright," the kidnapper said in a tone that was too joyful for comfort.

"Wait- what- please, stop!" Al didn't want to resort to begging, but he couldn't help it. He was terrified by the unknown of what was happening and the power that this unstable man had over him. But still, Riece ignored his pleas and most likely enjoyed hearing the terror in his hysterical tone.

The man chuckled as he drew one last line that rang with a sense of finality. His laugh was not the same cheerful one he heard on multiple occasions now. This one was dark and sadistic, but still overflowing with entertainment. Everything was going his way once again, and he reveled in every moment of it.

"Now then; it's time to proceed to the next stage."

"No-  _please!_ "

It was as though Riece was in his own little world, ignorant of Al's desperation. As if he said nothing at all, the circle was activated and Al experienced a new form of helplessness as his consciousness drifted from the rest of the armor.


	25. Chapter 25

Roy smiled smugly to himself, growing increasingly more satisfied with every step that clicked down the hall. Things were finally beginning to go his way again. He would be sure to enjoy it while it lasted, certain that it would not last long. His strides were quick and with purpose, subliminally telling all those who walked in his path to move aside. He had a goal to accomplish and a deadline to work with, and there was no force on this planet strong enough to stop him.

He was currently on his way to Colonel Douglas' office to  _gloat._

Officially, he was going to pick up the weekly report of his team's activity regarding the case, but he was primarily going to gloat.

While Roy had only learned of Douglas' upcoming transfer to West City a few hours ago, he wasn't sure when the man would actually be leaving. It could be tonight, tomorrow, Monday; but he wasn't going to risk missing his chance to subtly rub it in his face.

Some (Hawkeye) might have called it immature and childish, but he called it just deserts.

The thought of the other colonel's subordinates chasing Edward into a closet earlier that day still made his blood boil. It gave him immeasurable amounts of gratification to know that they would all be leaving very soon. That was the least they deserved for daring to target the kid like that. Despite Ed's pleas not to, Roy was more than ready to get involved and make them deeply regret making such a foolish decision, but he wasn't particularly disappointed that the situation turned out the way it did. It saved him from getting his hands dirty, as well as precious time that could be better spent on something else.

Such as flaunting his victory in the face of certain annoying colonel.

Roy swiftly turned a corner and set his eyes on the office door as he neared it, already imagining what awaited for him on the other side. Once he reached it, he welcome himself in, just how Douglas often did to his office.

Five uniformed soldiers occupied the main room, scribbling away on documents, taking reports and the like back and forth, and speaking among themselves in a business-like manner. Douglas' team starkly juxtaposed Roy's, but he pretended not to notice as he made his presence known.

A lieutenant was the first to notice and approached him with a habitual greeting. He vaguely recognized the man from when they raided his house almost two weeks ago.

"Is Colonel Douglas here?" Roy asked, quick to get to the point. "I'd like to speak with him."

"Yes sir, one moment."

The lieutenant disappeared into the inner office, which Roy had half a mind to storm into as well, just as Douglas did not very long ago. However, like the gracious guest that he was, he remained in the outer office where the other soldier's could continue to watch him with varying levels of curiosity.

Some, if not all of them were the bastards who thought it would be a good idea to harass Ed. His dark, calculating gaze shifted between each of them, catching the glance of a major, who hastily broke eye contact and continued to stare down at his work. Roy couldn't decide if he wanted to smirk at the obvious guilt he saw there, or scowl at the vengeful anger that wanted to built. But instead, he kept his expression steeled, reminding himself of why he was there.

Seconds later, the taller colonel stepped out and walked over, silently dismissing the lieutenant to continue doing whatever he was doing. Douglas looked the same as he always did; unfazed and stern with those heavy, scrutinizing eyes. Not a single emotion was visible on his expression, except maybe something faint that could possibly be described as contempt.

Not a single word was shared and they were already off to such a great start.

"Good afternoon, Colonel Douglas," Roy began, gratefully skipping over all other unnecessary pleasantness. "I heard you'll be transferring to West City soon."

"That's correct," the other man replied without missing a beat or giving anything away, as if he was expecting such a comment.

"Then I'm glad I caught you when I did; I was wondering if you had completed this week's activity report. I would have brought mine over, but I don't suppose you'll be needing it."

Besides the slightest hint of resentment, his face remained as unreadable as always. The blond only returned the stare for a moment before calling one of his lackeys to go fetch the documents in question, further increasing Roy's sense of accomplishment. He got to pester the thorn that has been in his side for weeks now, and better yet, he won't return to his own office empty-handed.

"I doubt anything inside will be of any assistance to you," he commented almost casually as he accepted the report from his subordinate, glanced at it, then handed it over to Roy. "We have not found anything of note after your discovery of Markus Riece, except for a house in the suburbs that belonged to his family, but has been abandoned for nearly a decade now."

The name of Al's kidnapper rolled off his tongue like acid and there was the slightest hints of disdain as he spoke. Markus Riece was partially to blame for Douglas' embarrassment and relocation. While few acknowledged it aloud, it was his stubborn pursuit of Edward that ultimately led to his transfer. He wasted time and resources by hunting down an innocent State Alchemist and refused to accept that he was wrong. At least, that was the story that Roy would be going off of.

"Thank you," he replied easily, accepting the report and giving it's pages a quick glance. His staff had been furiously going through any and all possible locations that the target could be hiding and he couldn't keep them all straight off the top of his head. But regardless of whether or not they had already learned of this house, he would be sure to look into it later.

"Was there anything else you needed?" Douglas asked pointedly.

Roy honestly considered the question for a short moment. Was there anything else he needed to do? Any final witty remark to properly solidify his victory that needed to be said?

No, he decided. He was done there. It would be best to go out with dignity; prove that he was indeed the better man, instead of fighting for the last word.

"No, I'll be on my way now," he informed easily as he stepped back over to the exit. "Have a good night."

"... You as well," Douglas replied slowly, inwardly wishing the opposite.

* * *

After a long day at the office, Roy decided to stay true to his word and go out for a drink later that night after he drove Ed back to the house, changed, and made dinner. But unlike his last few visits to the local watering hole, he went alone.

He was different from Hughes in that regard. Unlike his extroverted best friend, Roy had no problem with going out alone even when nothing was particularly bothering him that demanded exclusion. Of course, he would prefer to have an attractive young woman by his side more often than not, but tonight was not one of those times.

Roy leaned on the bar counter, absently stirring the ice cubes in his drink as he ignored the clamor of laughter and conversation that went on around him. His mind had persistently wandered back to the details of the case despite his attempts to urge his focus back onto anything else. Keeping his thoughts away proved to be difficult when there was nothing of interest happening around him to keep him grounded to the present.

He had mentally dissected the information until nothing remained; there was no purpose, nothing to gain, from agonizing over it. Roy's plan was to go to the bar, get a little drunk while he had the time, and give himself a moment to unwind before he began to get too stressed.

But even the comfortably warm buzz that filled his head was not enough to fend off the stream of questions that were yet to be resolved.

His last conversation with Douglas cycled through again, but not with the same sting of annoyance he often felt when he considered that obstruction. Instead, Roy welcomed the victory with open arms. The fact that he did not personally send the other colonel away was not enough to quell his good mood regarding the matter. Perhaps the Fuhrer wouldn't have made it happen if he never commented on Douglas' incompetence. But whatever the truth was, he was more than happy to consider himself at least partly responsible.

Speaking of Bradley, Roy found himself questioning why the man become so involved in the first place, and not for the first time that night. Whatever he was thinking, it appeared to be all apart of some greater scheme that was far beyond is range of sight. Saving Edward's reputation was somehow part of him preparing for the future. How exactly, Roy feared he would never be certain.

The colonel groaned and gulped down the rest of his drink and leaned back in the stool with a deep sigh.

There he went again; asking questions that he could not answer.

This case had him restless. Roy was incapable of putting it down for even a few minutes. Yes, nothing would be solved that night no matter what he did or how much he thought about it, but trying to stop himself was beginning to feel like more work that what it was worth.

Roy's attention was stolen as a clearly intoxicated man stumbled onto a nearby stool and giddily ordered another drink.

Some people had such blissful lives.

The colonel glanced around the bar, taking in the crowded, energetic environment. Not one other person in that building was aware that there was a psychopath somewhere out there who was currently torturing two children. They continued to laugh, unaware of the troubles that crept so nearby. They were all so ignorant and oblivious.

He had no right to judge them. In all honestly, Roy only came there that night to copy them; to become ignorant himself, just for a moment. But unlike them, his subconsciousness would not allow him to rest.

The bartender delivered the other drunk man an exotic, fruity drink that Roy could not guess the name to, then turned to him and asked if he wanted a refill. The alchemist agreed rather indifferently and he was swiftly presented with a new glass.

A vainly optimistic voice in the back of his head suggested that maybe his problems wouldn't seem so bad if he got himself as intoxicated as the man sitting beside him, who was happily sipping on his drink and grinning at nothing in particular.

Through the haze that was surely clouding his mind, the stranger noticed Roy's staring and glanced over, expression overall unchanging as if he failed to realize it was there.

There was something vaguely familiar about him, but judging by how comfortable he appeared to be, Roy's hazy thought process decided that he was another regular to that particular bar. After a moment of awkward eye contact, the older man gestured to the tropical beverage that he held haphazardly in his hand. "You sh'd get yourself some of this," he informed, slurring over his words as he wavered in his seat.

"Maybe later," Roy replied with a wry smile and held up a hand dismissively. He took a sip of the golden liquid in his own glass, which looked dull and boring in comparison, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth it carried.

"Ya' sure? It'suh good way to start a Saturday night. Some uh- some friends I know- we're going to... someplace after this. At eight, they said. Said this-" he took a generous drink. "- is good for uh- for... having a good time, or... something."

The stranger's sentence trailed off as he seemed to forget what his point was.

This man was wasted. At the moment, Roy was not sure if he pitied or envied him. He was almost jealous of how blissfully unaware he and many others in the bar seemed to be, but at the same time, he was well aware that he couldn't afford to disable himself like that. He would just have to leave it to those who didn't work with the military and therefore did not carry the lives of others in the palm of their hand.

Roy shuffled into his pocket and pulled out his watch, then glared at the inside until the lines distinguished themselves. He frowned and looked back up.

"You know, it's almost nine."

The man paused and stared at him for a moment, then turned around to examine the room.

"Oh. They left without me," he observed, then turned back to the counter and laughed at some sad, unseen irony.

Roy said nothing.

"Well, guess I'll go home and... feed my dog or... something," he slurred and unsteadily lowered himself from the stool, leaving his drink half empty. He took one step towards the door, stumbled on his own feet and nearly collapsed, only barely catching himself on the back of Roy's chair. He paused, then chuckled as if amused by his own lack of coordination.

"Are you alright?" Roy asked naturally, hoping the confused man didn't plan on driving.

"Oh yeah, yeah," he said waving a hand dismissively. "I live in walk'n distance. Just east of here," he said as he straightened himself up, pointing south-west.

Roy quirked an eyebrow dubiously, wondering if he should just leave the man to his own devices.

"Perhaps you should call a taxi."

The stranger shook his head. "Don't have any more cash on me for that. And it's jus' down the road," he insisted, now pointing north.

"It doesn't seem like you know where you're going."

He paused again and stared blankly at nothing for a moment, as if some dark reality just came crushing down on him. "You're right," he gasped. "I don't... think I'll make it."

Some uncontrolled portion of Roy's drunken mind found something funny about the man's overly dramatic response. But even so, he did not have a solution.

The stranger spun around and wobbled on his feet before steadying himself. "Are you offering to walk with me? "

Roy paused.  _No, I'm not._

"It's just down the road," he added. "I think I'll take a wrong turn and die if I go alone."

Yes, Roy certainly pitied him.

But then again, going east wasn't too far out of his way, so perhaps he should do his good deed for the day and help the guy out.

Of course, his motives were truly not so selfless. While keeping a drunk stranger from walking into traffic wasn't the first thing he wanted to do that night, he was already getting close to heading home as well, and it was a decent distraction. Plus, Roy was a nice person, right? Yeah, he was always doing needlessly kind things for people.

He was a damn  _saint._

For a moment, he asked himself if that was actually true or not, but made a decision without answering.

The colonel skipped the part where he reasoned with himself. "Alright," he shrugged impulsively and with little thought. "You said you lived east of here?"

The man nodded and spun back around towards the exit with his mouth open to speak, but whatever he said was lost within the noise. Roy paid his tab, grabbed his coat, then followed the stranger out.

The cold winter winds welcomed him as he stepped outside, followed by a gentle gust that sent a flurry of snowflakes across the street. The sky was obscured by dark, rolling clouds, but the snow was still relatively calm. He desperately hoped it would stay that way until he finally returned home.

Roy drew his eyes away from the weather until they landed on landed on the stranger, who was looking around the sidewalk like a lost child.

The colonel quickly got his attention and guided him towards what he only assumed to be the right direction. As the two staggered down the snow-covered road, Roy spent several minutes by telling himself how generous he was. But after a while, he was steadily beginning to regret his decision. When he first agreed, he did not stop to consider that he would be trekking through the snow for some reason. At least the alcohol in his system kept his core warm, but it would surely abandon him in time.

Roy tightened his coat around himself and folded his arms, glaring through the icy darkness of the sidewalk. He gazed up at the buildings that they passed, hoping to recognize the residential zones soon.

"When you said you lived within walking distance, what exactly did you mean?" the colonel asked, realizing that he had passed the turn he would have taken to get to his own home. He was officially going out of his way.

"Oh, you know- it's just- just up there," the stranger replied dazedly as he motioned forward with his hand, failing to point anywhere specific. The man nearly walked into a light pole, spared only by Roy warning him first.

"And what did you say your name was?"

"M-aaahhhh-ahh-" He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted with a yawn. Instead of doing one at a time, his response blended into the great intake of breath, sounding entirely incomprehensible.

"... What?"

"Mmhm."

"... Alright." The colonel withheld a sigh as he gave the other man a sideways glance just as he nearly stumbled into a dying bush just off the sidewalk.

Roy had given up. Conversation clearly wasn't this man's forte, so the air was occupied mostly by his drunken muttering and cars occasionally driving past, tearing up the fallen snow as they went. He could now see the edge of the city further down the road and the apartments began to give way to suburban houses. He glanced down at his watch again and held back a scowl when it became clear that his place was indeed out of what was generally considered walking distance during the winter.

All thoughts of how nice and saintly he was began to trickle away.

The colonel turned to watch the man walking nearby, who had stopped grinning at everything and now looked as if he was mildly considering throwing up.

"How much further?"

The man lifted his head and gazed out at the street before them for the first time since their journey began. "It's just up there. I can see it. Oh n' by the way, I think I'm 'bout to pass out."

"... Do you think you can make it to your house?"

The stranger shrugged, his eyelids fluttering. "Let's find out."

Roy breathed out a curt sigh and continued on. If he knew it would have turned out like this, he would have just called a taxi and paid for it himself. But he was already so close, so he might as well remain to ensure that the man doesn't fall asleep on someone's lawn, thus wasting his efforts.

At least he managed to keep his more persistent thoughts at bay for a while. Every time his mind wanted to bring up the case's information, he just had to glance at his only company and would instantly begin to distract himself by considering if this was a pointless waste of time.

Without warning, the other man abruptly turned towards the house they were passing. Roy paused and watched him stagger up to the porch and fumble his way over the steps.

"You're sure this is your house?" he called from the sidewalk.

The older man paused in front of the door and took a moment to study his surroundings. After several seconds, he nodded dumbly and pulled out his keys.

"Alright, well, goodnight," Roy said as he turned on his heel to make his exit and finally go back home.

"Ah- wait!"

He stopped reluctantly and turned back.

"I... I can't unlock it."

The colonel exhaled through his teeth as he begrudgingly stalked back over to the house and followed him to the porch, noticing minor, unimportant details as he did so. The grass was unkempt and there appeared to be cracks in the front windows, signifying a lack of care. While it was difficult to judge others when they were drunk, this was not a particularly surprising observation.

He stepped onto the porch and took the man's keys from his hands without a word, ignoring his thanks.

There was a quaint wooden bench pressed against the wall, but it looked as if he hadn't been used in months. In fact, every part of the building that he could see looked abandoned; all except the bat and catching glove that he vaguely noticed being propped up against the railing.

The stranger moved out of the way and out of his sight when Roy approached the door, fumbling with the key ring. There were several options to chose from but finding the correct key did not appear to be a very arduous task. He was just about to chose one until a soft, admonishing sensation poked him in the head.

Roy's eyes darted upwards to catch movement in the reflection of the dirty window. Far before his body could so much as consider moving, his vision blacked out for a fraction of a second and the world spun.

He found himself on the wooden flooring far before the dull, throbbing pain sunk in. His vision was blurred and unfocused, struggling to comprehend what just happened. He blinked until his eyes began to cooperate, and looked up at the man who stood in front of him.

The older man was no longer the drunken mess that he was only seconds ago. His posture had improved significantly and his eyes were focused and very amused, with an entertained smile to match. And he was holding a metal bat.

His first thought was to wonder if he was being mugged.

His second thought was to subtly reach for his pocket and grab his own gloves before this got any worse. At times like this, Roy was fortunate that he did not favor an actual weapon that required strength to use, because nearly every muscle in his body failed to move, thanks to both the dropping temperature and the fact that he was just hit on the head. It was all he could manage to simply keep himself propped on his elbows and inch his hand closer to his pocket.

"Oh no you don't," the man sang and lifted the bat into the air with both hands on the grip. Roy jerked his right hand back at the last moment, just narrowly missing the bat's impact, which sent chips of wood fly back and harmlessly flicking against his arm.

The colonel narrowed his eyes, partially to glare at the man and partially to focus his vision. The person who nearly broke his hand was not the same intoxicated fool who had guided him here, but there was no difference in his expression. There was no added malice in his eyes and his smile was far from sinister. He was still as jovial as before; just as unnaturally happy as before.

Roy's eyes widened as a chilling realization sunk in far too late, sobering is mind but leaving him numb.

"Riece." Roy hissed the name as if it was enough to kill. He looked nothing like his old prison mugshot, but this was the man who kidnapped Alphonse, blackmailed Edward, and got blood on that kid's hands. This was the man who he was going to burn to ash.

"It's nice to finally see you again, Mustang," the man said amiably as he tightened his grip on the bat. "I'm glad you remember me after all these years. It seems even my rusty acting skills were enough to fool you."

The colonel surveyed his surroundings, weighing his options. His mind was sluggish and leaden, refusing to cooperate as quickly as he needed it to. There was a wall on one side, and two tall, wooden railings on the others, leaving his only clear escape path the one behind Riece. If he could just distract him somehow... long enough to reach for his gloves...

"Sadly," Riece cut in. "We don't have time to chat just yet. You'll have to hold off for a little while longer."

Again, the silver metal bat was raised over his shoulder, stilling Roy's senses as the brutal strike impended. He mentally screamed at his stiff limbs to move, but only managed to inch backwards, mind still spinning from the first concussion.

The bat swept through the air, almost like a gavel about to determine his fate. In the back of his mind for a fraction of a second, hope drifted away like sand, to be replaced with a cold acceptance as the metal object aimed for his head. In the last moment, his stubborn refusal to simply let it happen kicked in. Against the denial of both his disoriented mind and stunned body, Roy attempted a last-ditch effort to save himself; he lurched out of the way of the weapon and lashed out.

His ears caught a surprised grunt from his attacker, but the sudden movement enticed a wicked stab of pain to shoot through his head, disorienting him once again. Before he could figure out what to do next or even comprehend what just happened, he recognized another flash of silver metal sweep past his vision just as the world once again faded to an empty black.

* * *

Edward didn't feel the slightest hint of alarm until around ten with still no sight of Mustang. However, it was quickly smothered by memories of the last time he stayed out late at a bar. Last time, he did not return until half past eleven and Ed was then mocked by the bastard for thinking something bad had happened.

He wasn't eager to repeat that incident by letting his paranoia get the best of him. So instead of pointlessly fretting and over thinking, Ed opened up another book and managed to distract himself for a while longer.

That blissful confidence was short lived. Midnight soon came with still no sign of the man. His worries returned with a vengeance, leaving him incapable of reading any longer. The blond eventually put the book away and left the study in favor of pacing around the house nervously for several minutes as he tried in vain to reason with himself.

He was worrying about nothing, he told himself repetitively. When Mustang returned to the house, he would jump at the opportunity to make fun of Edward for being concerned, just like last time. He didn't want to give the colonel the satisfaction and tried to step on those thoughts even as the minutes ticked on.

He managed this for about another half hour before the floodgate opened and a stream of possibilities swamped his mind. The bombardment of  _what-if_ 's left him restless and quick to assume the worst. Every time he heard a car draw near outside, he jumped to the window and peeked through the blinds, hoping to see Mustang pull up. He did this for roughly another half hour before remembering that his superior officer offhandedly mentioned earlier that he would be walking.

But if he decided to walk, then surely he didn't plan on staying out very long. He would leave and head back before it got too cold.

Or he would stay out as long as he wished and would simply use a taxi.

But regardless, where the hell was he?

The clock eventually passed one in the morning, which was when Edward decided that he had enough. The blond grabbed his brown coat and stormed outside into the snow without a second thought.

He knew where Mustang's favorite bar was, as they passed it every day to go to Central Command. While it would only take him a few minutes to walk, he decided to run instead, caring little for the curious looks he received from the scarce amount of people who passed him by. He was mildly surprised by his ability to charge through the street in such a way; he would have been incapable of doing so only a few days ago. Despite his new-found aversion to the public eye, a greater priority made all other fears unimportant in comparison.

He was overreacting, Ed reminded himself as he hurried through the snow as it's fall began to grow heavier. He would probably find Mustang at the bar counter, stupid drunk, and would have to explain why he ran all the way over there.

Hopefully.

At this point, he would have greatly preferred to again get mocked for his concern than face the alternative; that something was actually wrong.

When he finally caught sight of the bar in question, Ed anxiously increases his pace, his heart hammering against his chest, despite what he believed to be his greater judgment. Once he reached the front door, he promptly ignored the stared of the adults who he passed on his way into the welcoming warmth.

He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim lights, casting his eyes over the large room. There were several people littered in all corners, laughing and chatting to themselves without a care in the world.

Mustang wasn't anywhere amongst them. He felt the tendrils of uncertainty tighten around his lungs, but pretended to pay them no heed. Edward set his sights on a bored looking bartender and hurried over.

The older man saw the kid coming and quirked an eyebrow at him before he so much as reached the counter.

"What are you doing here, kid?" the man asked uncertainly. "I'm closing up soon."

"Do you know Roy Mustang?" Ed asked quickly though his heavy breathing. He stopped at the tall counter and anxiously gripped the edge of it with his right hand, ignoring the fact that he could only barely look over it.

The bartender blinked at him for a moment, and tilted his head marginally in thought. "Roy? Ain't he that military guy?" When Ed nodded, he did as well. "Oh yeah, he's a regular here. What about him?"

"I'm looking for him."

"Why's that? You don't really look like him-"

"Doesn't matter why," Ed cut in, certain that explaining that Mustang was his boss would only lead to more time consuming questions. "Did he come in here, or what?"

The bartender only stared at him for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Finally, he sighed and leaned against the counter. "Yeah, I think I saw him earlier. But he left a few hours ago with a friend."

"A friend?"

The man nodded. "His buddy looked too drunk to stand; seemed like he was helping him out. I wasn't really paying attention though. "

Ed lowered his gaze to the counter top and exhaled slowly, willing himself to calm down. He was well aware that Mustang and Hughes went for drinks often enough. It appeared as if the colonel was simply helping his friend get home. Maybe he was too tired to make the journey back to his own house afterwards. Or something like that.

The blond nodded numbly and stepped back from the counter. "Okay... Okay, thanks."

Without hearing the man's reply, assuming he had one, Ed turned and walked back out into the biting cold. With his arms wrapped tightly around himself he turned down the snow-covered sidewalk to head back to the house, unable to do more than walk as the adrenaline drained out of him.

He got his answer. Mustang was with his friend; not dying in a ditch or anything ridiculous like that. All Ed had to do now was return to the house and calm the hell down. But despite that, he couldn't shake the unnerved, foreboding sensation that continued to cling to him. But there was nothing left to do about it; nothing left to worry about.

Ed halfheartedly assured himself that his concerns were simply lingering and would go away as soon as he was back inside the warm, familiar house. Mustang would return soon enough and smugly wonder if the blond was concerned, to which he would reply with a resounding  _no._

Because there was nothing to be concerned about.


	26. Chapter 26

Edward's eyes blinked open lazily and stared mindlessly at the blank wall to his side as the vague lines and shadows blurred together in his vision. He had lost track of how long he had been laying there, willing his mind to clear just so he could fall asleep. He frowned and shut his eyes again, then rolled over onto his other side.

He almost drifted off for a moment, but there was something that insisted he stay awake. What it was exactly, he eventually stopped wondering. He had grown rather accustomed to blocking out all of his irrational fears just in order to sleep. Most of them were unfounded anyway, and at some point, Ed convinced himself that that was the case this time as well.

He remained there for another five seconds before that small, easily ignored fear erupted into a blaring alarm in his head. It was as if his own body got tired of him ignoring the signs and just yelled  _get you, you idiot!_

He shot his eyes open as his body went ridged, his only movement being the heavy rise and fall of his chest. For a moment, he wondered what he was worrying about, until memories of earlier flooded in.

Edward had been sitting there for hours now and there wasn't a single sound throughout the house to signal that the colonel had returned. Ed had managed to let the situation go to some degree, but now that he accidentally reminded himself, adrenaline was pumping too quickly for him to drift off again.

He sat upright and turned to the clock on the wall, glaring at it until he could read that it was about three in the morning. Two hours since he learned where Mustang was. He should have gotten back by then, right? Unless he decided to stay at Hughes' place for the night, but... no, he would have called the house and told him, even if he was drunk.

Ed kicked his legs over the side of the bed and stared at the door, his eyes stinging as they begged for rest. The teenager ignored it and shifted his weight onto his feet, withholding a shiver as his flesh foot made contact with the cold wooden floor.

He just had to check.

The blond crossed the floor and pushed the door open, staring out into the dark hallway. As he stood under the door frame, he strained his ears to catch any sounds of movement from anywhere in the house- just a single sign of life; that was all he needed to return to the warmth of his bed.

…

Nothing.

Edward failed to realize he was holding his breath as he stepped out into the wall and gingerly placed a hand on Mustang's door. He was reluctant to open it, afraid of what he would see. Or rather, what he wouldn't see.

He abruptly shook his head, willing himself to get over it.

With feigned determination, Ed pushed the door open and took a step into the room. He squint his eyes, struggling to make anything out in the darkness. He saw only large shapes within the shadows, but could not yet tell if the colonel was there or not. If he was, turning on the light would surely earn him an earful. Under the possible circumstances, he shouldn't be concerned with such trivial worries, but part of him just wanted to believe.

The floor creaked slightly underneath him as he moved closer, starring holes into the bed as he tried to make it out. Only a few feet away, he felt the air in his lungs disappear. A stunned moment passed before Edward jumped back and flipped on the switch, blinking ruefully as the the ceiling lights nearly blinded him.

It was just as he thought. Nothing had changed since yesterday. There was no sign that anyone had passed through the room anytime recently. Edward glanced over to the clock on the nightstand, only to needlessly confirm to himself once again that Mustang had been gone for over seven hours.

His heart pounded against his rib cage as he ran a hand frantically through his hair, confused and frightened. Just as he was about to turn around, something caught his eyes and brought them back to the small side table. He stared in the general area for a second, unsure as to what it was. The area was spotless. But at second glance, he noticed something small and white sitting just beside one of the legs.

Just a piece of litter, no doubt. But some unknown force pulled him closer until Ed was leaning down and picking up what appeared to be a folded piece of paper. He moved his hands to open it, but froze as forgotten memories slammed into him like a truck. He suddenly felt uneasy as he stared down at it, already knowing what secrets the small note held. But nonetheless, he unfolded it, unsure as to why.

Inside held the damned words:  _I see you have a new roommate._

It was the note that Riece had left for him to find in the middle of the night only two weeks ago. Mustang must have kept it as evidence or something, only for it to be forgotten on the ground.

Ed stared at those words, his hand paralyzed as the paper wrinkled and distorted in his grip.

 _Riece._ That bastard. First that man showed up and ruined everything by kidnapping Alphonse, and now Mustang was out somewhe-

… No.

No, he was just being paranoid again. There was no way. He was with Hughes. He had to be.

But he had to be sure...

Without bothering to turn the light off again, Ed abandoned the note and raced downstairs, nearly stumbling on his way. He couldn't believe that yet- he didn't want to. There was still a chance. Maybe Mustang just passed out on the couch. It was possible, right? Ignoring the fact that Ed was now the lightest sleeper on the face of the planet and would have heard the front door open, of course...

The blond rushed down the stairs and immediately set his eyes on the sofas.

Again, nothing.

 _Okay, Ed, don't freak out just yet,_  he ordered as he proceeded to freak out. Forcing out a deep breath, the blond pushed himself to take a step back. He still had one more test before he could confirm his suspicious.

He turned into the kitchen and switched the lights on just before he began to shuffle through the drawers nervously. Just as he reached one that was beneath the telephone, he found his target: a small address book.

As Edward flipped to the H's, he had never been more thankful that Mustang had always been one to write things down.

He slammed the page open onto the counter and roughly grabbed the handset. It rattled in his metal hand as he nervously punched in the number with the other, praying to whatever might listen that someone would answer.

With the phone up to his ear, Ed fought to keep his heavy, disquieted breathing under control as it rang. As the seconds passed, his heart beat fasted, panic steadily rising. He would rather not call them in the middle of the night, but there was no avoiding it. Especially if his fears turned out to be true-

" _Hello?_ "

Ed nearly chocked on his own tongue when he heard a tired voice on the other line. He opened his mouth to stammer something out without any thought, but caught himself and forced his tone to sound more composed than he felt.

"Hi, Mrs. Hughes. It's Ed. Sorry for calling so late." She certainly sounded like she had just woken up. Perhaps getting calls in the middle of the night wasn't too odd for a military family. He pauses, unsure how to phrase the question, lest he be wrong. "Do you know if Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and Mustang went out to a bar tonight?"

He sensed uncertain hesitation on the other end. " _No, my husband didn't go anywhere tonight. He came home right after work. Did something happen?_ "

Edward paused, his mouth far too dry to speak. Thankfully, another groggy voice on her end, supposedly Maes, distracted her, giving him enough time to think. Or at least try to think.

All he could do at the moment was repetitively remind himself of just how  _not good_  this discovery was. It was Al's situation all over again; he could search the city only until he broke down and was forced to give up. It was unrealistic. He had no choice but to believe that Mustang was in trouble, and he had no idea what to do about it.

"I- I have to go," he breathed and lowered the handset to hang up, far too occupied with the conglomerating thoughts to consider the Hughes family for another second.

" _Ed, wait!"_

He paused inches away from ending the call, then slowly brought it back up to his ear as Gracia's voice was replaced.

" _Ed?"_   The lieutenant colonel spoke urgently, banishing all traces of sleep from his tone.

"... Yeah?" Ed mumbled, simultaneously fighting to fend off the anxious nausea that wanted him to keel over.

" _What happened?_ "

He supposed there was no point in keeping it a secret, especially from Hughes of all people.

"Mustang's missing. He's been gone all night and I think- I think Riece got to him."

" _What!? Shit,_ " Hughes breathed under his breath without missing a beat. Even in the middle of the night, his brain did not slow down. " _Where did you last see him?"_

"He walked to the bar down the street after work. I went over there a few hours ago, but the bartender said he left with a friend. I figured he was with you, but..." Ed trailed off, silently cursing himself for not seeing it sooner.

There was a deep sigh on the other end of the line.

" _We need to search for him. I'm on my way over."_

"No, if Riece really has him, then there's no time to waste. I need to start looking right away."

" _Wait, you shouldn't-"_ The man cut himself off, apparently thinking twice about trying to slow down the the stubborn alchemist. " _Alright, fine."_

"I'm going back to the bar."

" _I'll meet you there soon._ "

"Okay but if I find out where he is, I'm not waiting up."

" _Ed-_ "

"See ya," he finished and promptly hung up the phone, only vaguely registering the exasperated tone as he cut it off. Just as he told Hughes, there was no time to lose.

With that said, the blond turned out of the kitchen and marched forwards to the front door, but he paused as he saw glimpses of snow through the blinds. His gaze drifted over to is brown raincoat that was hung on the coat rack, but he did not move to grab it. Instead, an impulsive decision was made and Edward turned back up the staircase.

Thirty seconds later, he bounded down the stairs and walking through the door into the cold, clad in his signature outfit, complete with the vibrant red coat. The familiar garment hung down his shoulders far more comfortably than the brown one did and somehow helped him to feel all the more confident that he would succeed.

Confidence was something that he desperately needed at the moment.

* * *

His mind was lost in an empty blackness that was too fragile to recognize as such. No thoughts, feelings, or emotions passed through. But as soon as that delicate state was abruptly interrupted with something red, hot, and uncomfortable, something told him that he would have preferred to remain in the blissfully empty void of his own mind.

Roy's eyes opened only to be squeezed closed again as he was caught off guard by a harsh, blinding light shining in his face. It burned through his eyelids, reducing his vision to only a stunning, overwhelming brightness for what felt like an eternity. Realistically, only a few short seconds passed before he blinked quickly and began to adjust.

He opened his eyes as much as he dared and stared down at the table that was sitting in front of him, disoriented. It took Roy longer than it should have to realize that the bright light that pointed directly in his face was not what was causing him such great discomfort. He did not quite understand that something else was wrong until the sharp clang of metal hitting metal rang in his ears, immediately followed by intolerable pain running up his arm.

An agonizing scream burst from his throat and died quickly as his voice gave out from the sudden strain. He settled for gasping sharply through his bared teeth as his limbs quivered and mind raced in aching circles.

"You're finally awake."

Roy only vaguely registered the sentiment as burning anguish spread through his body like wildfire. His desperation to figure out what the hell was causing so much pain drove him to focus as his eyes searched for the answer, paying no mind to the person standing next to him.

His searching gaze was caught by the deep red of blood slowly pooling on the surface of what he now understood to be a desk. He then stopped on the foreign objects and a cold, draining realization swept over him.

Long steel nails had been hammered into his forearms, restraining him to the desk. He stared at his arms with a dumbfound expression, simply trying to understand what this meant for him as his foggy, concussed mind struggled to keep up.

There was one nail deeply inserted into the center of each forearm, and were most likely at least four inches long. The blood around the head of the nails was minimal, only enough to stain his sleeves around the wound. The flow of blood underneath was slightly stronger, judging by the two small puddles that soaked into his shirt. Luckily, it wouldn't endanger him as long as the nails were in place.

Regardless, Roy thoughtlessly tried to lift his right arm, but the strength of the nail held him in place and returned his efforts with another powerful surge of pain to burst through him, leaving him only more exhausted.

As if noticing his bewilderment, Roy heard a chuckle by his side but could not yet pull his focus away. "I'm not an expert in human anatomy, but I'm fairly certain that I managed to miss your major arteries. It would be a shame if you bled out prematurely, after all."

Movement at the top of his vision caught his attention and Roy looked up just in time to see another long, metal nail to appear above his right arm, slightly lower than the first one. A mallet came down on the head of it long before the colonel could fully comprehend what was happening.

Again, every nerve in his arm and up to his shoulder was mercilessly set on fire. His back arched as another miserable yowl broke through his lips. Eyes tightly shut, Roy lowers his head and bit back the desire to scream. His arms quivered against his will and every breath tugged on the nails.

"What a predicament," A voice sang as it's owner walked around him and stopped on his left.

Roy forced his eyes open to look at the source, grinding his teeth together as he endured the suffering. He would have scowled at the sight of Markus Riece smiling over him with a mallet in hand, if his face wasn't already contorted in agony. He couldn't quite muster up a response, even as his mind spun with a colorful collection of insults and curses.

"You have been tied up and nailed to a desk," Riece pointed out as if it was nothing more than a fascinating observation. Roy hadn't noticed the rope that blinded his legs and chest to the chair, further keeping him in place. "I wonder: what ever will you do now?"

A pained and infuriated growl slipped through his teeth as Roy could only manage to glare daggers at the man. There was the monster who had been tormenting the Elric brothers. It was he who the colonel wanted to personally burn alive, now more than ever.

"I invite you to try getting yourself out." Riece spread is arms apart as he gestured down to the ropes and the nails, almost as if he was trying to appear like he was being generous. "I am very interested to see how you choose to proceed."

The psychopath picked up another nail from a plastic bag filled with them that sat on the edge of the desk. As Roy's eyes moved to follow, he also took a moment to observe his surroundings. He was in a small room that looked to be a mix between a storage room and an office. A cabinet off to the side was filled with random tools and scraps of metal and the room was littered with forgotten debris and lose papers. Wherever he was, it hadn't seen use in a long time.

Roy snapped his gaze back to Riece when he caught sight of movement, but his vision blurred for a moment when he did so. His head was beginning to pound; from the concussion or the hangover, he wasn't sure.

Whether or not the captor noticed this, Riece's smile widened. "Will you try to rip those nails out to free yourself, but risk bleeding out? I know you're capable. Or will you just continue to sit there and endure, hoping that someone will come along and save you?"

He did not respond for several seconds. Markus remained quiet and watched with an expression of pure entertainment.

"... Is that why you're doing this?" Roy growled once he found himself able. "Is this all some game to you? Just seeing what I'd do for your own sick enjoyment?"

"I'm only here to study your reaction," he replied easily and absentmindedly twirled a dauntingly long nail in his hand.

"Is that what you were doing to Ed and Al too? Studying them?"

The man tilt his head in thought for a brief moment and his smile momentarily fell to a contemplative frown. "That was not my original intention, but I cannot deny that that has become a large part of it," he said, the smile soon returning.

"Oh right," Roy mused sarcastically. "Because all of this is for revenge."

"Revenge? No, that's not it," he said dismissively, eyes widened slightly by surprise. He casually walked out of Roy's restricted view and went on. "Alphonse thought the same thing. Revenge is too irrational and mindless. Too... primal. I don't expect you to understand."

The colonel fought a losing battle against the urge to squirm and twist around to keep an eye on the man, but held himself still with the knowledge that he would immediately regret it. It was unnerving for Riece to be wandering around behind him; he was clearly insane and unstable. If he thought that what he was doing was something besides revenge, then he had to be delusional. There was no arguing with him, so the alchemist was not going to waste his limited breath.

But still, Roy feared for the well-being of the kid who had been trapped in his company for a month now.

"... What did you do with Alphonse?"

Riece chuckled and said nothing until the colonel began to think that he would never reply. Until finally, he said "For now, that's none of your concern."

"Where is he!?" Roy persisted and grimaced slightly as his muscled tenses. "You torture both him and his brother just to get to me? Coward!"

"Call me what you like," he replied as he walked back over to Roy's left. He held the large nail over his forearm and moved the mallet closer to the head and stared down, measuring it with his eyes. "It means very little."

The colonel froze once he realized that Riece was about to impale him again. He scrambled his already jumbled mind for something- anything- to say that could possibly stop him as the man rose the mallet in preparation to strike.

"What about your daughter?" he blurted out and flinched away, expecting his arm to be stabbed once again.

Nothing followed; no words or incredible pain. Roy slowly, hesitantly, opened his eyes again to see that Riece had been stunned still, eyes wide and mouth gaping open slightly. The alchemist saw that he had found an opportunity and pressed into it.

"Sophia Riece was found dead the day before you were released," he continued on darkly. His eye twitched as he tried to ignore the agonizing burn and the splitting headache that persisted to tormented him. "What did you do to lead her to something like that?"

Markus dropped his arms to his side and returned Roy's sharp gaze with an incredulous stare. "You think  _I_  caused that?!" he demanded suddenly, all traced of his usual false friendliness long gone. Good riddance.

"What other explanation is there?" he snapped back rhetorically without missing a beat. "You clearly have no regard for human life. Why would your daughter be any different?"

Riece was silent for a long moment as he glared down at the trapped alchemist with a cold, scathing expression. Looking at him as he was now, it would be impossible for anyone to guess that he was the same smiling man who was standing there only seconds ago.

"Nonsense," he said quietly. "She did it to herself. She... Sophia couldn't understand that..." he trailed off, turning his gaze to stare at something unknown to Roy.

"She couldn't understand what exactly?" he pressed, mostly to spite the man than to actually get answers out of him. "That her father is a delusional murderer?!"

"Enough!" The man snapped as his callous eyes landed on Roy just as he swept his arm through the air, too quickly for the colonel to quite understand why until he felt the nail pierce his skin.

Riece physically speared Roy's arm with only the power of his own hand, taking no assistance from the mallet in his other. A gasped cry formed in his throat as he was taken off guard and his shoulders heaved tensely as his nerves screamed for mercy.

Failing to realize that they had closed in the first place, Roy pried his eyes open again to look at his abused arms. The newest nail did not fully dig through to the other end of his arm and into the desk as the others did, judging by the lack of blood.

He slowly looked back up at Riece, who was staring down at him with a stern frown set in place.

"Do not speak as if you know anything about Sophia," he growled balefully as his fists tightened by his sides.

It seemed as if he really did care for his daughter. His impulsive actions and the rage in his tone could not easily be reciprocated willfully. But regardless, he had no doubt that Sophia's suicide was directly related to her father somehow. Something happened between them. At this point, it didn't really matter what happened in the past, however. Roy only cared about getting out of this chair, finding Alphonse, and then ensuring that Riece got what he deserved.

He had thought before that Riece was a heartless excuse for a human being who had no idea what it was like to care for another person. But if there really was a human locked deep inside, then perhaps Roy could use it to his advantage.

He took a deep, ragged breath and flinched as the subtle yet aggravating movement further irritated the wounds in his arms. Tremors ran up his body that made him desperately want to simply fall asleep until the pain would subside. Sadly, the logical part of his mind knew that was not an option.

"Do you really think this is what your daughter would have wanted?" Roy asked slowly, his voice hoarse and brittle.

Riece's eyes narrowed. "I thought I told you to-"

"Maybe that's why she killed herself," Roy interjected boldly. "She couldn't stand the thought of what you had done- and what you would continue to do."

Markus set his jaw and stared down at the man with a look that could almost kill, assaulting Roy with record setting levels of hatred. His eyes burned with the intend to harm, but he remained still and opened his mouth to reply. However, Roy continued against this better judgment.

"It's not too late to fix this," he urged quickly before Riece could lose his composure. "If you let Alphonse and I go, you could-" Riece cut him off quickly as he raised the mallet and brought it down on the forth nail without any sign of hesitation. The long spike of metal further tore through his muscles and skin and at least chipped into his bones on it's way down into the surface of the desk.

A mangled gasp interrupted his words, convincing him to give up on talking to the man. Not just because he wasn't getting anywhere, but also because he felt physically unable. His head was still throbbing from the spiteful headache that plagued him as the increasingly painful shivers that ran up his body did nothing to help.

Roy lowered his head again as he breathed and nearly bruised his forehead on the edge of the desk in the process. His primary focus was to simply endure. Nothing was said for several more long seconds, before Riece decided to fill the emptiness.

"Sophia may not have approved of what I was doing when she found out, but do you really think I would stop now if that didn't stop me before? Even now that she's..." He shook his head and exhaled soundlessly. "Nothing else matters now. All that I am concerned about now is finishing what I- no, what  _you,_  Colonel Mustang- started so long ago. Now if you would excuse me, I have another guest to prepare for."

With that final statement, Riece turned on his heel and marched out of the room. Roy rose his head and turned as far as he would dare to watch him close the door behind him, leaving the alchemist alone in the small storage room.

If Markus really wanted to observe his reactions, then why was he so willing to leave? Perhaps that just went to show how confident he was that Roy wouldn't be able to go anywhere anytime soon.

He slowly turned back and looked down at his arms again, noting with disdain as his vision spun slightly, convincing him to add mild nausea to his growing list of concerns.

On second thought, he considered throwing  _it was too damn cold_  onto that list as well. He hadn't noticed it before, but the air was freezing. Whatever building he was in, he was willing to bet that it did not come equipped with a heating system. And if it did, Riece was too cold-blooded to need it.

Roy needed to get out of there, for more reasons than he cared to count.

He didn't know how he was going to pull it off, but it needed to happen one way or another.

And now that he thought back on it, Riece said he was expecting another  _guest._  Who was he talking about...? What were the chances that it was anyone except Edward?

Speaking of Ed: the kid must have noticed his disappearance by now. One glance around the room proved that there was no possible way for Roy to know what time it was and how long he had been gone; that would have been a question to ask Riece before angering him out of the room.

Roy pursed his lip and lowered his gaze as he stared into space, mutely wondering how Ed was faring. Riece was orchestrating the entire situation, seemingly flawlessly; if Fullmetel were to get involved, there was no telling what could happen. The knowledge that someone had been and still was pulling the strings only increased the colonel's worries and added a foreboding touch of trepidation for good measure.

While Markus appeared to be a meticulous planner who took every possibility into account, perhaps Roy could surprise him. If he could just free himself...

The alchemist looked down at his bloody, nailed arms and cringed at the sight. Roy needed to act fast, he inwardly reminded himself. It was going to hurt like hell, but he had no other choice.

Roy reluctantly lowered his face down to his right arm, eyeing the closest nail. Only it's head was still visible, sticking out just above his stained sleeve. Thankfully, the nails themselves did not appear to be too thick. But if he pulled them out, there was still no telling how badly they would bleed.

Pushing the concerns away, he took a deep breath and closed the distance, shifting in his chair as he did so. The movement pulled on his left arm, but he continued until it was within range. Decisively, Roy closed his teeth around the top of the nail, breathed again, and pulled upwards.

The metal shifted slightly against the inside of his arm but barely moved despite his efforts. He groaned from both irritation and pain and released the nail only seconds after beginning, ignoring the metallic hint of blood that he tasted in his mouth. This was by far the worst splinter he ever had to pull out. He was already lacking energy to begin with, but attempting to tug on the spike only sapped him of what little remained.

He exhaled slowly, physically drained. But he couldn't afford to wait. If he paused to rest, his body would only continue to weaken in the state that he was in.

 _Just get it over with,_ Roy ordered himself, repeating the words to himself until it became a mantra. Without another thought, he leaned forward again and quickly secured the nail between his teeth once more, and yanked back with every nonexistent ounce of strength that he could muster.

The thin spear of metal rubbed against the muscle and bone in his arm and further burned his skin as it slowly moved upwards. His arm convulsed in protest and a pained, rough groan tore through his throat. He was physically unable to pull the nail any faster and it only took a few seconds before the action drained him. His jaw automatically slackened and he leaned back against the chair, breathing deeply through his mouth with his eyes shut.

After a long, arduous moment, Roy weakly lowered his gaze and stared at the results blankly, unimpressed by the measly inch that he managed to pull out as he again pretended to ignore the taste of his own blood. He still had three, maybe four more inches to go before he could get it out, not to mention the other remaining nails. And then there was dealing with the rope that tied him to the chair...

Roy exhaled deeply and allowed his eyes to close. He now had no choice but to sit there and wait for at least some amount of strength to return- or at least for the pain to decrease by a degree. At that point, anything would help.

But regardless, he knew that there was no time to spare. Every second that he wasted brought him closer to whatever Riece was planning, and most likely brought Ed closer to walking into it.


	27. Chapter 27

Within the hours after his last venture outside, the storm had picked up considerably, blowing snow into Edward's face while he ran down the street as quickly as his frozen stiff legs could manage. The wind pushed back on him, turning his nose red, blowing snow into his bangs and eyelashes, as if it was making itself out to be nothing but another tedious obstacle.

While nearly blinded by the vengeful weather, at least the pedestrians who were out earlier to enjoy the nightlife had since cleared out. Cars continued to pass by every now and again, illuminating the great amount of snow with their headlights, as well as reminding Ed of exactly where the sidewalk ended and the street began.

Edward continued to plow forward, unyielding to the powerful winds that tried to hold him back. He had completely lost track of time and had no idea if he had made great progress due to his determination, or was only slowed down by the heavy blanket of snow that further soaked into his shoes with every step. His mind was racing, nearly distracting himself from the numbness that seeped into his bones with thoughts of Al and Mustang.

In spite of how careful Ed thought he was, Riece somehow managed to get his hands on both of them. He couldn't begin to imagine what unspeakable things that monster had done to them in that time, and was frankly too frightened to wonder. Markus Riece was a twisted psychopath who had no regards for morals or ethics and would go so far as to  _torture_  those unlucky enough to become his victims.

He didn't exactly understand what that meant when it came to Riece, as Mustang left that part out when reading the report aloud, but that didn't stop the gruesome mental images from appearing in his head against his will. Broken bones, blood everywhere, sadistic laughter ringing in the background...

But then what about Al? He supposed all that was left would be some type of psychological torment. While Ed didn't even want to begin wondering about that, he still couldn't help but fear the worst.

However, that was why he was running down the road in search for the tiniest hint available to offer him some insight to where they may had been taken. He had to find something to help lead him to them.

He  _had_ to.

Ed slowed to a stop at a familiar street corner and scanned the area as he held an arm above his eyes in an attempt to fend off the onslaught of snowflakes. It was difficult to find his target since most of the lights had been shut off, further encasing the surrounding buildings in darkness.

At last, he had found the bar in question and approached the front door, despondently noticing the lack of light coming from inside. He briefly recalled the bartender telling him that they were closing soon during his last visit, but continued on regardless. Even with the signs, he had to at least try the door. Maybe he would get lucky for once.

He stepped underneath the protective awning that hung over the front door, thankful for the debossed entrance that offered him a small amount of cover from the storm.

But as he reached a hand forward to try the handle, he paused as he suddenly noticed what appeared to be a small piece of paper taped to the door. As soon as he recognized it to be a short note, his breath caught in his throat and his heart hammered against the inside of his ribs. Slowly, he closed the distance between the door and himself, holding his breath as he squint his eyes to make out the words with only a nearby street lamp for assistance.

_We are waiting for you where this all began._

Ed stared at the writing, his mind racing but unable to form any coherent thoughts. He felt numb, and not just because of the cold. He gripped the note with such force that his hands began to shake as the words quickly became distorted and eligible. One part of his mind was in denial and refused to believe that the message meant what he unfortunately knew it did.

 _We_ , it had said.  _We_  meaning Alphonse, Mustang, and of course, Riece.

 _Where this all began_  could only mean one thing: the warehouse where Ed had first spoken to the madman. He was leading Ed straight towards him. He was planning something. Of course, Riece was  _always_  planning something... Every single thing he did seemed to lead perfectly up to whatever he had in store next, and surely this was no exception.

It was obviously a trap, but such things had never stood in Edward's way before. Besides, trap or not, that bastard had his brother and the colonel. He needed to save them!

Although, what if the vague note was only a trick to deceive him? What if the two of them were somewhere else completely and Riece was just trying to lure him to someplace secluded?

But what choice did he have?

There was only one thing he could do, despite the risks.

Ed turned out of the safely of the building and approached the street, glaring out through the snow until his eyes landed on the darkened yellow of a taxi parked on the other side of the street. He waved to it and moved to cross the street but an abrupt thought made him pause mid-step before his foot could leave the sidewalk.

Hughes was probably not far from reaching the bar, given he was able to drive. The smart option was to wait for his arrival before running off into enemy territory.

The taxi began making a u-turn in order to drive up to him after apparently seeing him wave.

Yes, it would be foolish to run in there alone and ill-equipped for whatever awaited him. Edward folded his arms to weakly fend off the cold as he waited for the car to reach him, prepared to tell the driver that it a false alarm.

But on second thought, he had the opportunity to go straight to the place where Mustang and Alphonse most likely were. He couldn't quite bring himself to take a seat and wait while they were suffering.

But the lieutenant lolonel was on his way and it was unlikely he had enough information on-hand to understand the message behind the note.

The taxi pulled up along the curb and Ed decisively approached it, opened the passenger's door and poked his head it, welcoming the warm air that greeted him. The driver was an aging man with tired eyes and a stubbled chin, obviously accustomed to these late night shifts. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ed briskly cut him off.

"Do you have a pen?"

The older man stared him quizzically for too many seconds than Ed had the patients for. "Uh... Yeah." he muttered as he began to shift through the clutter that took up the car's cup holders. After an impatient moment, the driver presented a pen to him that was quickly snatched out of his hand.

Ed shut the door behind him and almost ran back to the front door of the bar. He worked on opening the crumbled up piece of paper and rearranging the pieces of tape that had previously kept it in place. At last, he managed to tape the note back to the door and then proceeded to hastily write down the warehouse number that he only vaguely remembered. Once satisfied with his work, Edward hurried back to the car and climbed inside, simultaneously returning the pen back to it's owner.

"I need you to drive to the warehouse district," he informed matter-of-factly as he held a hand out towards the vent, relishing the warmth.

"What?" The man exclaimed, nonplussed. "I'm not going to take a kid to the warehouse district at this hour. Just tell me where you live and I'll drive you home."

Ed scowled and mutely began digging into his pocket until he pulled out the famous silver pocket watch. "I don't have time for this. It's urgent."

The man's eyes bounced back between looking and Ed and his watch with a conflicted expression taking up his visage. At last, he sighed and switched gears, allowing the vehicle to begin towards their destination.

With his objective accomplished, Edward returned the watch back to it's proper location and leaned back in the seat with his head turned to the window at his side. Now, all he could do was wait and hope that Al and Mustang could do the same, at least for a little while longer- just until he got there to save them.

After the taxi turned onto a main road and began heading directly towards the warehouse district, Ed felt a twinge of guilt for going ahead when Hughes expected him to be at the bar. But he  _did_  warn the man that there was a chance he would leave if given the opportunity. Besides, he had no doubt that the head of the investigations department could find the note and figure it out from there.

Perhaps it was better that they were going separately; if something happened to Ed, then Hughes would be close behind and would surely be an unexpected variable in Riece's plans. He hoped, anyway.

Now that he was sitting still, the blond began to feel restless as the foreboding sense that had been poking him since he realized Mustang wasn't coming back began to grow stronger. As he sat in the pleasantly warm taxi, he realized that this was the calm before the storm. He was geared up and ready to walk into what felt like a battlefield, but despite the adrenaline that fired him up, he could only sit there and wait.

That was perhaps the worst part; the constant waiting.

He waited for Riece to make a move, he waited for Mustang and the team to find a clue, he waited for the colonel to return to the house that night, he was waiting for the taxi driver to hurry the hell up, and to top it all off, he still waited every single day for Alphonse to show up and greet him the same way he always had before, all while Ed was perfectly aware that it would never be that easy.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

If he had to sit idly by one more time, Edward would lose his mind and likely break something in a fit of rage.

Minutes passed in silence as the alchemist was far too entranced in his own tangling thoughts to notice. The driver tried to ask him questions from time time, primarily out of curiosity or concern than the desire to fill the silence with conversation, but the answers he received were all very terse and lackluster. Edward, preoccupied by mentally preparing himself for the trails to come, was not in the most conversational mood at the moment.

"Alright kid, where to now?" the man eventually asked, the relevance of his tone shaking Ed out of his own thoughts.

The teenager looked ahead, only now realizing that all signs of civilian life had vanished, to be replaced by deserted roads lined with large, cold warehouses. He peered out, struggling to see the numbers that were plastered on the front of each building due to the angry snowfall that tried to obscure them from sight. As soon as he collected his barrings, Ed directed the driver with uncertainty lacing his tone.

After what felt like ages to the impatient alchemist, the car pulled up to an especially unnerving warehouse. Both occupants looked out at it silently, noticing the trepidation that hung in the area. Ed could barely make out the numbers through the weather but he didn't need them to know.

"This is the one," he muttered almost under his breath as memories from his past visits here returned to the surface.

"... You sure about this, kid?" the driver asked, casting him a dubious sideways glance. Ed didn't need to probe him to know that he wasn't asking strictly about their location.

He continued to look out for a long moment- longer than he intended. After many seconds, he nodded mutely and reached for the door the climb out. As his hand landed on the handle, he paused and turned back to the man.

"How much do I owe you?"

He stared at Ed incredulously for a moment before opening his mouth to say "no charge."

In spite of his assurances that he didn't mind paying, the man wouldn't hear it. He wasn't sure if it was an act of pity or kindness, but he supposed it didn't matter. Edward relented and thanked him before climbing out of the vehicle.

Cold, merciless winds swept towards him with a vengeance, forcing him to immediately wrap his coat tighter around himself. Thankfully, the red one was much more helpful in the cold than the other brown coat.

Though his heart was pounding and beating blood through his veins at a million miles an hour, he was chilled to the core thanks to both the snow that piled onto him as he walked and the nervous tension that tightened itself around his body. But nothing would stop him. Ed was  _finally_  given the chance to actually do something and he wasn't about to back out of it now.

As he reached the door, he glanced backwards to the taxi, which was still sitting at the side of the road. With a shrug, Ed turned back around and rested a hand on the warehouse's door. He wasn't sure what to expect and did not feel the least bit prepared, but he doubted he ever would. With a deep breath, he pulled it open. The door slid to the side after some convincing and he stepped inside.

The door clanged shut behind him, echoing off of the high ceilings of the empty room. The warehouse's main room felt strange and unfamiliar to him. The lighting was uneven and flickered, just as it did before, but it was different somehow. Ed's eyes trailed upwards, noting the catwalk that went from one wall to the other as weak light bulbs shined off of the metal railing. He didn't remember the walkaway from his last visit and assumed it was too hidden in the shadows for him to notice.

That, or he was in the wrong building. He remained by the exit, tense and nervous as his eyes scanned the room again, unsure as to what exactly was unnerving. But as memories from his last visit came to mind, he realized what had changed: the far wall was once lined with large storage crates, but they had since been moved to the sides, revealing another door.

That simple, metal door on the other side of the room stared back at him, taunting him, tempting him to see what was behind. At first, he questioned how he had missed that there was more to the warehouse, considering he scouted around the entire building when Riece first held Alphonse hostage, but he supposed he was far too frantic back then to properly map it out.

Edward took a deep breath of the frigid air that was no warmer than the outside and slowly began walking forward. The lights overhead cast strange shadows throughout the room, primarily thanks to the catwalk above. As he walked underneath it, Ed's eyes danced around the room, half expecting something to jump out at him at any moment. Riece was waiting for him; he could be anywhere, bidding his time until the most opportune moment to strike.

But more importantly, Alphonse and Mustang were waiting for him.

As the alchemist neared the far door, his golden eyes suddenly dropped to the ground and he paused, distracted by what he saw. Etched in the concrete ground were a number of wide, shallow scratches that went off to the side. It was solid evidence that he was indeed in the right building; he recalled seeing the very same markings last time when he was searching in a vain hope to find his brother.

His gaze followed the scratches until he landed on the other door to his right, which he knew led to a small office. In comparison to the new door that held only mystery and uncertainty, checking the room that he was at least slightly familiar with quickly became the most favorable option.

Ed changed his course and turned to the side, all while he continued to scan the large room for any signs of life. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something would appear as soon as he dropped his guard. He was nervous and uncertain and forgot to breath until his lungs pulled at him to pay attention.

He finally reached the door and placed a hand on the knob, gently testing to see if it was locked, which it was not. While he knew the room that lied behind, there was no telling if anything had changed. The prospect that anything could be waiting for him only added to his rising reluctance.

But regardless of the anxiety that threatened to choke him, Ed pushed on. The door glided open effortlessly, revealing a much smaller room behind it. But as the blond leered inside, his breath hitched and he was certain his heart stopped beating for a moment.

A figure sat hunched over at the desk that was pushed against the wall with his back facing Edward. A spitefully bright desk lamp shined in his face, silhouetting the man. But he didn't need to see clearly to know who it was.

Ed took an eager step to run towards him, but something stopped him. A nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him that something was wrong. As he breathed much shallower than before, Ed took a few more hesitant steps closer, watching the colonel's back like a hawk. The only sign that he was still alive was the faint rise and fall of his shoulders, and the fact that he was sitting up- kinda.

"... Mustang?" he called uncertainly. His voice sounded far more frightened than he intended, but he currently did not have the mind to care.

He heard a raspy exhale from the man as he fractionally turned his head as if to look towards Ed, but his neck failed to turn far enough. The small gesture was nothing more than an acknowledgment and a sad attempt to be something more.

Edward did not understand it. Surely a little rope wasn't enough to stop him, which he noted was tied around his chest and legs. Why was Mustang just sitting there instead of hunting down Riece and burning him to a crisp? Why did he seem so... weak?

He was almost afraid to find out.

Slowly, hesitantly, Ed braced himself and moved closer, walking over to the colonel's side. He rose a hand to do... hell, he didn't know- something, but as his eyes trailed to the surface of the desk, his body went rigid. His head began to pound and he felt bile threaten to run up his throat.

The brown of the desk had turned red as multiple pools of blood tainted it and dripped down the sides. His sleeves has long since been soaked and even began to harden along the edges of the stains. A dark, cold pit formed in the base of his gut when Ed realized what caused it all; his arms had been nailed to the desk.

Long, metal spikes stuck out of his arms, one further in than the other. After an incredibly reluctant second glance, he noticed that there appeared to be four in total, but the colonel had somehow managed to pull two out, which were laying in the blood. Meanwhile, only the head of one protruded out of his left arm, while the nail in his right had been pulled out about half way.

Frozen with horror, Ed struggled to finally pry his eyes away from the gruesome sight, only to land on something almost as shocking. The colonel's head was bowed, his eyes unfocused and weary. Blood was smeared along his cheeks and dripped down his chin. It was logical, but Ed was only further aghast by the implication that he had tried to pull the nails out with his teeth.

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came to him. What the hell  _could_ he say? The colonel had been impaled to a desk and all Ed wanted to do was blame himself. He should have seen this coming. He should have warned Mustang. He shouldn't have allowed himself to relax. If only he acted sooner, this could have been avoided!

Ed's fists curled at his sides as he fought back the urges to both throw up in disgust and cry in shame. But instead, he bared his teeth as a broken, quivering exhale nearly shattered his already fading resolve.

The colonel still did not look up at him. He was awake, but it didn't seem like he realized Ed was there despite responding to him earlier. The blond knew he should have been scrambling to get the nails out and shake him out of his trance, but he was stunned to the spot and far too tense to act or even think about acting for the moment.

This could have been avoided, if only...

All while struggling to keep his pathetically weak composure, Ed stepped closer, unsure as to what to do. Without thinking, he slowly dropped his gaze, allowing his forehead to rest on Mustang's shoulder. assuming anything else would cause the colonel more pain.

"I'm sorry," he chocked, tightening his fists at his sides until his knuckles turned white and the other rattled under the pressure. He stared blankly down at nothing, feeling the man's arm tremor from what was surely the intolerable pain.

Yes, Riece had it out for Mustang to begin with, but this all started with the deal he offered to Ed, who was given no choice but to take it. If he had just done things differently, perhaps they wouldn't have found themselves here; perhaps the colonel wouldn't have been tortured like this.

"I- I'm sorry," he murmured again, unsure if his words were even heard. All he wanted to do was explain himself and go on and on about how all of this was his fault and he should have done things differently and he was  _so sorry_ but part of his brain knew that Mustang wouldn't want to hear it. But that was no excuse not to say what he believed should be said, right? Although even if he made the decision to speak his mind, he felt entirely incapable of doing so. His mouth was dry and each attempt brought him even closer to breaking down completely.

After a moment, he felt the colonel's head bump gently onto his own, hard enough to surprise him but not enough to say that it hurt. Confused, Edward looked up to see Mustang looking at him, appearing tired and drained, but not yet defeated. Ed fought to keep his focus set on the his dark eyes instead of the blood that was drying on his face. He stared at the kid for a moment longer, his thoughts unreadable.

His mouth tilt into a frail smile, as if to say  _it's okay. Don't blame yourself._ While touched, Edward almost wanted to apologize again. That is, until Mustang finally spoke.

"... -the hell're you doing here?" His hoarse voice lacked any signs of reprove or judgment and sounded as if he was only asking out of curiosity, but Ed guessed that was only because he was too tired to put any emotion into his words.

"Ass." He muttered the insult with a halfhearted frown. Ed had come all this way to save the day, and that's the response he got. Although, he couldn't deny that part of him felt relieved.

The corner of Mustang's lip twitched as if to smile again. "You know it's a trap," he pointed out, expression again gone serious.

"Yeah," Ed replied without missing a beat. "Don't care."

The older man studied him for a moment, before turning his head away, closing his eyes lightly and chuckled feebly. After a few seconds of silence, he opened them again and looked as if he was about to say something, but Ed's own concerns took priority.

"Are you alright?" the blond asked suddenly, noting his paler-than-usual complexion. "You lost a lot of blood."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine. Just- do me a favor and get these nails out," Mustang sighed.

"Sure..."

The Colonel took a relatively deep breath and again closed his eyes as if to brace himself. Ed looked down at he two remaining nails tentatively. From his own experience of getting metal speared into flesh, the fact that Mustang was able to pull two five inch nails out of his own arms with his  _teeth_ was pretty damn impressive. He figured he should try making the extraction of the last two as painless as possible, and then deal with the bleeding.

After studying the wounds for a moment, Ed inched himself next to the desk and clapped his hands. With one more careful glance over to the colonel, he lightly touched the head of a nail with the tips of his fingers and it immediately lit up with blue lighting. The nail thinned and extended upwards until Ed was able to take hold of it and pull it out as if it was nothing more than an over-sized toothpick. He imagined that feeling the nail shrink inside of one's own arm was not the most comfortable experience, but Mustang took it well. His visage contorted in a grimace, but nothing was said.

Edward quickly repeated the process on the other nail and then hastily deconstructed the ropes, freeing the older alchemist from the desk. But even when nothing held him down, he did not move his arms- not that Ed blamed him. The blond abruptly began to look around the room, then onto himself when his search came out lacking. With another clap, Ed created four strips of the cloth taken from the end of his coat.

Mustang watched him do this, then glared down at his arms again. With a sharp inhale through clenched teeth, he quickly pulled one of his bloodied sleeves back, exposing the wounds. He flinched from the movement and held the constant scowl on his face, but otherwise remained stoic.

Wordlessly, Ed began to wrap the two gaping holes in his arm with the fabric as he silently hoped it was relatively clean. Once the same thing was done to his other arm, the colonel placed a hand on the back of the chair and slowly brought himself to his feet.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Ed asked carefully as he stepped back to give the man some room. The makeshift bandages would do them little good if he didn't get some real medical attention very soon.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just-" Mustang's balance wavered, then he dropped back into the chair and pressed a hand against his forehead. "Give me a minute," he muttered.

"... Okay." Ed's attention was drawn back to the door as he wondered once again where Al was. If he was here- if Riece had him hidden somewhere, then how much time could he afford to kill? He didn't want to rush the colonel, especially when a disoriented, blood deprived Flame Alchemist would be of no help, but simply standing there ate away at his nerves.

After looking up at the blond, Mustang commented on his obvious distress as if he read his thoughts. "Riece orchestrated all of this and is waiting for you. He's not going to run off with Alphonse until you show up to face him." He gingerly rested his damaged arms on his legs as he looked up at Ed who remained standing by his side.

Edward looked back over to him with a small frown that he was not quite aware of, meeting Mustang's heavy gaze once more.

"Yeah," he said slowly, failing to sound nearly as confident as he had hoped. He knew the colonel was right, but his worries did not lessen. He was fiercely concerned for his brother and looking at the drained alchemist who sat before him did nothing to help. Now that Ed was so close to Alphonse, he felt as if nothing could stop him from finally finding him again, but he couldn't just leave Mustang behind now that he was hurt and barely conscious.

Edward slowly paced the confines of the small room, casting the occasional glance over to the colonel, who did not change his position once for several long minutes. He simply sat still with his head lowered with a hand pressed against it as if to fight off a simple headache. Ed tried not to notice how the red strips of fabric darkened around his arms every time he looked over. There was nothing else that could have been done about that now.

Eventually, Mustang's arms moved to slowly hoist himself back up to his feet. The blond ceased his pacing and exhaled soundlessly from the relief that he felt when he noticed the older alchemist no longer looked as if he was seconds away from passing out. It could have just been faked for his benefit, but Ed would much rather go along with it at the moment.

"Alright. Let's go," he stated, his voice low and hollow. Ed wasn't sure if that was because of the seething, vengeful anger that sparked subtly in his eyes, or if it was another side effect of being stabbed by nails and losing far too much blood.

He didn't move, watching Ed expectantly to walk out the door, and quirked an eyebrow when the kid remained still.

"You sure?" Ed asked again carefully. "You're still not looking too good."

Something flashed across his visage for a fraction of a second. Whether it was guilt, regret, remorse- Ed couldn't tell. But as soon as it was gone, Mustang allowed a small smile to appear as he returned the blond's look, almost sadly. He slowly rose a hand, stopped to look over his arm, then dropped his hand onto Ed's head once he deemed it okay to do so.

Ed only blinked with a start, mildly surprised by the gesture. He stayed still, inwardly afraid that the hand would move if he did. After spending hours worrying that the colonel was on the verge of death, he wasn't about to complain about the contact.

"I appreciate your concern, Ed. But I'm fine. It's time we find Alphonse."

He wasn't entire convinced, but one look at the colonel's determined expression told him that no amount of arguing would do them any good. Besides, there was nothing he hoped to gain. It was possible he was going to need the assistance of the handicapped alchemist, if the worst were to happen.

His eyes fell from the man's face, down to the bandages for a split second. He then looked down further to stare at nothing particular and nodded, his stomach still turning into knots with a single glance at the newly inflicted wounds. He felt his hair shift with the motion as Mustang's hand remained on his head for a short moment longer. For a second, it seemed as if he was going to say more, but instead stepped away from the kid and approached the door.

 _No time like the present,_  Ed willed himself to believe as he moved to follow the colonel. Apprehension continued to manifest itself at a frightening speed. Even as he felt like the nausea that accompanied it could soon become too much to bear, he shuffled his feet forward as Mustang took a breath and stepped out into the warehouse's main room.

The two alchemists scanned the large open room, then allowed their attention to focus on the other door when nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. Mustang began making his way over to it, but his steps were slow and careful. Without needing to rush, Ed easily passed him and reached the metal door before him, deciding that if something was waiting for them on the other side, then he didn't want the colonel to face it first in his condition.

He mutely placed a hand on the door handle, only to see that it was locked. But when he moved to clap his hands together, the screech of rusty hinges came from behind and bounced off the walls, followed by the loud bang of a heavy metal door falling back into place within it's frame. They both spun around on high alert. Ed didn't know where Mustang's eyes were, but when he saw that the front door had not been touched, his focus was drawn up to the catwalk.

As if he was an actor who had waited for his cue to get on stage, Riece appeared at one end and strolled to the center of the catwalk, putting confidence and purpose into every step that occupied the air as the old metal that held the structure together clanked from his movements. It was difficult to get a good look at him as he stood above them and in such poor, uneven lighting, but it was clear to see that he was bursting with vivacious energy even at this ungodly hour of the morning.

"Welcome," the man began, his voice effortlessly reverberating around the room. He put a hand on the railing and looked down at the two. Riece beamed down at them, appearing as if he was greeting two long lost friends rather than pulling the strings of a hostage situation.

Ed's hands balled into fists, wanting nothing more than to punch that man across the face. He glared upwards with every ounce of loathing hatred that he could muster and ignored his cheerful welcome.

"What did you do with Al!?"

Riece's smile widened. "Alphonse is just fine. There's no need for you to worry about him. Besides, we have more important things to talk about."

"Not until I see Al! Where is he, you bastard!?"

The man tilt his head and breathed out a mock sigh. "You haven't changed, I see. This is all very similar to our first meeting, isn't it?"

"Just shut up and tell me where he is!"

"Oh, fine, fine," he relented, flicking his wrist dismissively. "I assure you, Edward: your brother is in very capable hands at the moment."

Riece rose the other arm and something in his possession glint with a metallic sheen. It wasn't until Ed's brain recognizes the dark red design on the small slab of metal did he realize what the man was holding. As soon as understanding struck, his eyes widened and he felt himself grow stiff. All air was blocked from his lungs and his mind was frozen. He wasn't sure if Mustang was on the same page and did not currently have the mind to check.

"Alphonse!" Ed's strained, desperate voice scratched against his throat and echoed around the room as his eyes locked on the small scrap of metal- the only remnant of his brother. Riece- that monster- had forcefully removed Al from the only body he had left, making him defenseless and incapable of fighting back.

The psychopath's lips moved soundlessly from up on the catwalk, whispering words that only what little remained of Alphonse could hear. After a moment, Edward heard the voice of his brother for the first time in a month.

"B-brother! Is that really you?"

Edward felt a smile form through his words despite himself. "Yeah Al, it's me! I'm gonna get you out of here, alright? I swear, I'll figure this out!" He couldn't contain the relief he felt to hear Al's voice again, but it did little in light of the threat that still hung overhead.

The small smile faded completely when Riece laughed over Al's response. "Didn't you say the same thing the last time we were all here together? Oh, how history repeats itself," he sang, voice laced with a sick amusement that sent shivers down Ed's spine. "And just look at how that went. The very same night, you murdered Victor Tresler."

In the back of Edward's mind, he almost feared cracking his own teeth from the amount of strain that was put on them. He stared at Al, but his brother said nothing. There was no way for him to know if what Riece had said came to a surprise to him or not, but he was afraid to assume it was the latter. Even if Alphonse knew his hands were dripping with the blood of another, he wanted to hear him say  _something_. The silence unnerved him and made him mind come to the worst possible conclusion.

After almost forgetting he was there, Mustang stepped forward. "You will be the only one charged with murder after this is over. Not to mention a number of other crimes," he informed darkly as he hid his fatigue admirably.

Riece only chuckled in response at first, unfazed by the colonel's threat. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to see how this plays out."

"You got us here, just as you wanted," Mustang went on. "What exactly do you want? Is this all just so you can get me killed for your petty revenge?"

"I already told you this isn't for revenge. I'm simply doing my part to help cleanse the world by getting rid of you."

Ed was sure he wasn't the only one who thought Riece didn't even believe his own words. There had to be more to it than that. It just didn't make any sense.

Mustang scoffed dubiously. "That's rich, coming from someone who tortured people who he was hired to help."

Markus shook his head. "They were desperate and signed up for it out of their own free will."

"They didn't know what they were agreeing to! They had no idea their psychologist was a twisted sadist who would pit them against each other only for his own amusement!"

Riece only shrugged the accusation off. "My past experiences were all in the name of science. Besides, isn't what what you do as well? You alchemists commit acts that others consider to be immoral and wrong all for the sake of expanding your own knowledge."

"Don't you dare compare yourself to us," Ed cut in sharply. "At least we don't make a habit of ruining other people's lives!" Memories of both Alphonse and their mother jumped into his mind as soon as the words left his mouth and a regretful scowl made itself evident on his face against his will. Hopefully Riece was too far away to notice.

"Is that what you believe?" Riece questioned easily as if he was well prepared for this conversation. "But wasn't it the State Alchemists who destroyed the lives of thousands during the Ishvalan massacre?"

Neither had a response at first. Ed glanced over at Mustang who only resolutely glared at the other man. He still appeared to be very weary and bringing up his past was surely doing him no favors, but he still held strong. "Don't think for a moment that that can excuse the atrocities that you've committed."

Riece shrugged again, almost as if he was yielding to the Colonel's comeback. "Perhaps not. But I digress; my reasons for doing this should really not be your main concern for the moment. We have all gathered here this morning for a reason. I suggest we focus on that instead." The smile that had taken up his visage thus far subtly shifted into something more sly and conniving. As unnerving as it was, the two alchemists had no choice but to go along with it.

Mustang exhaled slowly and shifted his weight. It was a casual, unnoticeable gesture but Ed was almost certain that it was because he was still too tired to keep up the act for much longer. "Then cut to the chase."

"With pleasure," Riece grinned as his eyes shifted over to the blond. "You see, Edward here was given a task. I told him very clearly that if he did not kill his commanding officer, then there would be consequences."

Ed froze and gaped slightly, far too stunned to consider how he must have looked. He had hoped that his earlier arrest would have taken care of that issue...

"I decided to be lenient when news came that you got arrested, but I believe you are hiding something, considering the very same man who you were supposed to kill is still trying to help you. How very clever of you, Edward. But sadly, it was not enough. I still expect my orders to be carried out."

The two alchemists glanced at each other, then back up at Riece. Ed's mind was racing but he had no idea what he could possibly say at the moment. The worst case scenario was quickly becoming reality. But regardless, he swallowed down his fear and put on a strong front.

"You're insane if you think I'm going to do that! I'm not going to hurt anyone else for you!" he spat, pointing a finger at the man for emphasis. Hopefully, the distance between them would make it impossible for the other man to see how his hand shook. He couldn't have Alphonse think that the man still had the power to sway his big brother with threats.

"Perhaps you don't understand what I'm saying. I suppose I'll just have to spell it out for you," Markus shrugged as excitement shined in his eyes. "I told you before that Alphonse would suffer if you did not do what I said. That still stands, you see."

Riece rose the hand that held the scrap of metal that was Ed's brother.

"Wait, stop! Don't hurt him!" the blond burst out impulsively. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He knew exactly where Riece wanted this to go, but Edward couldn't possibly make a decision with the limited options he was given. There was no ideal way to deal with this. There was nothing he could do.

"It would be terribly easy to scratch some of this blood off. But I wonder: what would you be willing to do in order to convince me not to keep the promise I made to you?"

"... What do you mean?" he asked slowly and with great reluctance. Edward really didn't need to ask, but he wasn't given any other option. He felt Mustang's eyes on him, but could not bear to return the look. He wasn't sure what the colonel was thinking, nor did he really want to know.

"Simply complete the task that I originally gave you. But of course, I fully expect Mustang to fight back as well. Let's see which alchemist is favored by natural selection while we're at it," he said smiling wickedly. He may have had a goal that neither of them quite understood, but he was clearly having far too much fun in the process.

It was foolish to hope that he would have said anything else, Ed realized as he stared blankly into space. A madman wanted him to kill Mustang, or else Alphonse would die. But he could only stand there and wonder why the hell this was happening to him.

"You wouldn't sacrifice your only bargaining chip," Mustang suddenly cut in. If he feared that Ed would actually turn around and try to kill him, he didn't show it. Not once did he step further away from the teenager or raise his guard.

Riece laughed, but it wasn't with the same joy and amusement that was heard in his tone before. It was something more psychotic and admittedly sad. "I've lost too much. My job, my reputation, my daughter- all that matters now is finishing this. If I cannot convince you to follow through even for Alphonse's life, then I lose," he shrugged, as if the prospect did not bother him as much as it should have." But then, you would as well. If I fail, then I don't care. What happens afterwards would not matter. This bargaining chip is not as invaluable as you may think."

Ed forced his eyes back up to Riece, silently wondering if he was actually serious. He couldn't even begin to understand that man's mindset- if that was truly what he believed. It simply didn't make any sense to him. From the sound of it, his life had become so worthless that he was willing to put it up for forfeit over something so unnecessary. All to get back at the person who arrested him  _four years_ ago? But he supposed the reason did not matter as much as the fact that he  _was_  willing to kill Al if he did not get what he wanted. Finally, Edward was able to look over to the colonel again, only to see that he looked just as confused.

A deep, exaggerated sigh filled the silent room as Riece looked at them almost impatiently. "You two don't understand either, I see. I suppose I expected no less from you. Sophia also failed to understand. And that's why she left; she couldn't see what I saw."

Edward shook himself out of his shock for a moment, his zeal temporarily revived by anger. "All she saw was that her father was insane!"

All traces of the usually happy man that Ed had unfortunately known thus far disappeared behind a deep frown and a scathing glare. His grip on both the rail and Alphonse tightened until his knuckles turned white, but he continued speaking almost as if he had not heard the blond's accusation.

"There is no one who can understand the risks I was taking. Perhaps I did enjoy my experiments back then, but it was all for the sake of better understanding humanity! Had Tresler and Mustang not gotten involved, then I could have continued. I could have made fascinating discoveries. And Sophia wouldn't have found out, and she wouldn't have died."

"So that's what all of this is about?" the colonel asked coldly. "You're just blaming me for your daughter's suicide?"

Riece narrowed his eyes and the warehouse was consumed by silence for several long, icy seconds. "Clearly, there is no one else to blame. I have lost everything that I once lived for. But I will not be the only one to experience loss!" As if fed up with waiting, he held up the blood seal in one hand and swiftly brought the other dangerously close to the fragile lines that anchored Alphonse to this world.

"Stop! Don't hurt him! Please, I'll- I'll..." Ed's heart jumped in his chest as his mind scrambled to find a solution where there was none. He wasn't given any other choice here. His desperate, searching eyes turned back to the colonel, hoping in vain that the man would somehow know what to do. He knew it was unfair to ask so much from Mustang, but he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't kill him, but he couldn't let Alphonse be killed either.

But when he expected to see the older alchemist with the same, conflicted expression, he only saw a strange, resolute acceptance on his face that somehow managed to be defiant at the same time. He looked over to Edward calmly and almost managed to calm his worries with the single glance.

"It's okay, Ed," he said in a voice too quietly for the man on the catwalk to hear as he turned his body to face the blond head-on. "We haven't lost this yet. For now, let's just do as he says."

Edward stared at him incredulously. "... What?"

"I need more time to think of a way out of this. We can't stall him with conversation forever. There could still be a way out of this yet. We just need to entertain him for now until we find out how."

The blond glanced up at Riece and Alphonse, then back to Mustang. "Do you really think that could work?"

"It's our only shot."

Even after being tied to a chair and losing an unhealthy amount of blood, Mustang was willing to feign a fight to the death with Ed and simultaneously create a strategy to fool the malicious man who had them running in circles. He wasn't sure if he felt incredible respect for the man, or was just worried that he was drastically overestimating himself.

But no, he was right; this was their only shot. He had to trust that Mustang could figure this out, and do his part to win the day. He slowly turned to face the colonel and raised his fists in front of himself defensively. When Mustang did the same, Ed noticed he no longer had his alchemic gloves on him.

"Fine, you bastard," Edward growled at Riece as he kept his focus on the colonel, watching the gears turn behind his sharp eyes. "If it's a fight you want, then it's a fight you'll get." Even as he stared down his  _opponent,_ he didn't feel any fear of being harmed by the man during the course of their fake fight. Instead, he knew that the final battle between the two alchemists and their true enemy had only just begun.


	28. Chapter 28

Edward began to wonder if this was really the best course of action as he reeled back to dodge a punch aimed for his face. From the eyes of an observer, the strike would have looked as if it was made to knock him out, but he knew from previous experience that the fight he was unwillingly indulging himself in was truly nothing more than a spar.

Each attack felt more like a light jab, but both Ed and Mustang had to act as if they were truly trying to do much worse. However, that wasn't a very difficult task for the colonel, seeing as he was already breathing heavily and slowing down with each movement.

Since they were only trying to entertain Riece for a while, it would have been preferred if Mustang still had his gloves so he could leave most of the action to Ed in order to better focus on creating a plan. And to make the situation even better, the man up on his hypothetically throne decided that they were  _not trying hard enough-_ or at the very least, Ed wasn't. He knew very well that the young alchemist often transmuted in own arm into a blade and demanded that he better treat this fight like all others if he wanted Alphonse to live to see the victor.

As he rolled his sleeve back, clapped, and reluctantly warped the metal of his arm to a point, Mustang moved back to create some distance between the two. While he knew Ed wouldn't actually try to harm him, acting the part was taking its toll. The blond took the opportunity to glance towards their only spectator up on the catwalk, who looked down at them expectantly. He was still holding the small piece of Alphonse in his hand, but wasn't giving the younger brother a very good view of the show. Ed wasn't sure if he should have been thankful for that or not.

Al's silence was still unnerving, but he was beginning to fall under the impression that his captor had specifically told him to stay quiet. However, he wasn't too sure what brought him to believe that. He supposed it was just preferable to the other possibility, which was Al resenting him too much to say anything.

When Riece quirked an eyebrow at him and motioned for him to continue with an arrogant flick of his hand, Edward scowled and drew his gaze back to the colonel, who fractionally nodded in response.

With a weary exhale, Edward charged forward, brandishing the blade in front of himself and slicing it through the air as he neared the other alchemist. Prepared for him, Mustang grabbed hold of his wrist, thankfully before the blade could make contact, then threw a punch towards the blond with his other arm. Ed intercepted his fist in his own, locking them in what was sure to look like a stalemate. Edward pushed back against the force, but lightened up slightly, nearly horrified at the realization that he could easily overpower the man.

There was something very wrong about that, he decided. Despite what he might have said on a better day, Mustang was not supposed to be weaker than him.

"You doing okay?" he asked in a whisper through his teeth as his eyes were drawn to Mustang's arms. The makeshift bandages did little to slow the bleeding and the dark splotches in the fabric were only growing larger from the blood that spread underneath.

The colonel did not reply right away in favor for focusing his withering energy on breathing and keeping up with the younger alchemist. Eventually, he forced out an arduous "fine" as his eyes shot between Ed and Riece. "Won't have to keep this up for much longer, though."

"Did you come up with a plan?"

"Maybe, but I don't-"

"Hey!" Riece's voice echoed through the warehouse and cut the colonel off. "You two should be fighting, not chatting! Let's not make this a waste of time, shall we?" Following his voice was the clang of metal hitting metal. Ed glanced over to see him tapping the small plate of Al's armor against the railing of the catwalk.

With an enraged growl, Edward pulled his wrist out of Mustang's grip and backed up, once again creating distance. If Riece became any more suspicious, he was afraid to find out what he would do in order to see spilled blood.

One look at the colonel was all he needed to know that he had permanently switched to the defensive. He was no longer even trying to mask how exhausted he was, not that he could have otherwise. He had grown paler than before and even from where Edward stood, he could see the man's limbs shaking from the strain.

Given no other choice, the two alchemists continued to trade punches for what felt like several more minutes. Each time they got close, Mustang tried to speak to him, but lost the opportunity for one reason or another, mostly due to Riece's interference. As time went on, it became painfully more obvious that he was catching onto their scheme to outsmart him somehow, and he refused to give them the chance to communicate properly.

Until finally, he sighed loudly and again a chime rang out around the room as he tapped the small plate of metal against the railing to get their attention. Edward stopped in his tracks as he was mid-way to charging at Mustang again, who slowly lowered his arms as his attention was also pulled up to the catwalk.

"How much longer will this go on?" the man asked rhetorically as he looked down at the two with an expression that neared boredom. "I've always been content with observing, but I do not appreciate being toyed with. You two are fools if you think I will allow this nonsense to continue for a moment longer."

Ed and Roy exchanged an uncertain glance but both remained quiet. The blond tried to come up with a snide remark, but he was mostly just hoping that Riece would call the whole thing off and be cooperative for once. But of course, that was far too much to ask for.

"How about we speed things along?" he asked idly as he tapped his fingers contemplatively against the rail. "I do enjoy watching people deal with high stress situations... Alright, it's decided: I will give you ten seconds," he stated, looking quite pleased with himself.

"What?!" Edward snapped before Mustang had the chance to do the very same.

An amused chuckle came from Riece as he peered down at the two with a victorious grin that reminded Ed far too much of the first time they had met. "Someone will be dead in ten seconds, Edward. It's up to you to decide who." He gestured to the blood seal in his hand, allowing the dim lights to reflect off of the metal. He heard a hint of a fearful tone that sounded distinctly like Alphonse; he feared for his life and was counting on his big brother to save him.

But what could he do in ten seconds? There was no alchemic equation, no clever trick, nothing he could do to save everyone. His mind scrambled for a solution but he was only running in circles with no end in sight.

"Ten," Riece began as his sickening grin widened.

Ed's heart jumped in his chest. He was stuck rooted in the spot as he struggled to figure out what to do out of pure desperation and the willingness to not give up, than any unseen hope that told him it was actually possible.

"Ed." Mustang's strained yet somehow steady voice broke trough the confused fog. Slightly hunched over and breathing through his mouth, the older man watched him carefully with a surprising amount of confidence in his eyes that Edward did not understand. "It's okay."

"Nine."

"What're you talking about? Nothing's okay!" he choked, inwardly pleading that he wasn't saying what he feared.

"Eight." Either time was moving much slower than it should have, or Riece was purposefully slowing down the count to get the most out these next few moments.

"Listen to me," the colonel insisted, his eyes narrowing. Whether it was from the intensity of his words, or the pain that undoubtedly still coursed through his body, Ed had no idea. "It'll be alright."

Ed paused and struggled to find a response. "... W-what do you mean?"

"Seven."

"Just trust me, Ed," Mustang urged as he cast a nervous glance up towards the catwalk, then back to the blond.

"Trust you to do what?  _Die!?_ " he asked frantically, heart hammering in his chest. He might have ripped his hair out by that point, if one of his arms wasn't currently a blade.

"Six."

"We don't have time for this!"

"But he wants me to  _kill_ you! I can't- how could you-"

"Five."

"Just focus on saving your brother, Ed! Do what you have to do to-"

"Shut up! I'm not going to hurt you, dammit! Not again- I can't-"

"Four."

"There's no time!" Mustang barked as a shameful warmth began to swell in Ed's eyes.

"B-but-"

"Three."

"Do it, Ed!"

With an anguished yowl, he broke into a heavy run, almost certain that he would collapse with each step. His vision blurred as he rose the blade into the air and neared Mustang, who stood his ground and made no move to defend himself.

"Two."

Even as Ed charged, he didn't feel the intention to harm his supposed target. In fact, he didn't feel anything besides a suffocating fear that something terrible that he had no control over was about to happen. Seemingly against his will, the ingrained instinct to shut down and follow orders took command.

"One."

For a split second, Mustang caught Ed's frightened gaze and looked at him with with utmost certainly etched into his expression. There was no fear or worry to be seen. But still, Edward did not want that to be the last expression for him to see on the man. Not here, not like this. There was something far too tragic about him facing the atrocities that Ed was made to commit with such unwavering confidence. But none of these thoughts made it to the front of the blond's mind. Instead, he shut his eyes as he lashed out, far too disgusted with himself to watch as the blade lunged forward towards the heart of the man whom he had grown to trust implicitly.

_Zero._

…

Nothing.

He heard no bloodcurdling cry of pain from Mustang, no victorious rant from Riece, no fearful protest of Ed attacking his superior officer from Al.

It took Edward a moment to realize that he didn't feel any resistance when he extended his arm. Unwilling to open his eyes, he was certain that there was only one explanation: he had missed.

The countdown had ended and he failed to complete the abysmal job he had been tasked with, which meant he had just killed Alphonse. Riece wanted to see a show that he had failed to give, and he was not able to hope that the man would not stay true to his threats; not after all he had promised.

That was it. Alphonse was dead. That had to be it.

Adrenaline was pulsing through him too frantically for Edward to react to the thought. Instead, he only felt numb.

When he tried to move his arm back, he was surprised to be met with an unexpected force holding the blade still. His eyes cracked open simply to find an answer to the seemingly insignificant question, but widened as he saw blood dripping down the metal. Everything he needed to know was right in front of him, but still he did not understand.

Mustang was gripping his arm, face contorted with pain. It took Edward a few painstakingly long seconds to comprehend that the blade of his automail had sliced through the man's side, allowing blood to freely seep down his side and leak through Ed's arm.

He was frozen with horror. His arm rattled as he shivered uncontrollably, unable to look away from the colonel's face, who had yet to to return his gaze. Slowly, the man pried his eyes open and hesitantly opened his mouth to speak.

"Ed. Listen," he chocked out through clenched teeth, eyes only barely staying open. "I-"

Whatever he said was swallowed by a manic laughter that reverberated across the walls. "You actually did it! At last!" Riece exclaimed from up on the catwalk between gasps of laughter. However, his voice sounded distant and foggy to Ed, who could only focus on Mustang.

"I-" he tried to repeat himself. Even while all the blond wanted to do at the moment was collapse into a miserable pile, Ed gave him his full attention, certain that whatever he had to say was incredibly important. However the strength necessary was drained out of the colonel before he could continue. His tense body slackened and his grip on Ed's arm loosened. His eyes began to roll back in his head and his balance gave out. As if in slow motion, Mustang's now bloodied hands slipped from Ed's arm and he fell backwards onto the cold, concrete floor.

Edward simply stared, frozen stiff and numb. That was not supposed to happen. He was so sure that he missed, but instead, he stood silently as Mustang writhed on the ground, clutching onto his bleeding side for dear life. He was breathing shallowly, but being miles away from medical attention, there was nothing the blond could do to help. He wasn't yet dead, but Ed had killed him.

But he didn't mean to. He didn't actually intend to- he didn't  _want_  to. Yes, he ran forward with the blade, but only because he couldn't think clearly in the moment. Mustang seemed so sure that he had it all taken care of. Edward had no choice but to believe in him, but because of it, the man was dying at his feet. Is this really what he had in mind...?

He heard voices in the distance, but they were muffled and distorted as his brain had been turned off. Even the frightened tone of his brother was not quite enough to pull him out of the horrified trance.

"Is he dead?" Riece asked excitedly from above, but he received no answer from the distraught teenager.

Edward looked down at his tremulous arms, eyeing the blood that dripped down the blade mutely. He took an unsteady step back as if he could simply distance himself from the tainted weapon, then vehemently whipped his arm back purely in a vain hope to get the blood off.

It wasn't supposed to be there. This was wrong. So inexplicably  _wrong._

When it became clear to Riece that Ed was not paying any attention, he chimed the plate of metal against the railing again until he could partially pull the young alchemist out of his haze.

"Is he dead?" the man asked again, sounding less gleeful and more intent, searching for a mandatory answer.

Edward glanced up at him, then allowed his gaze to fall to the ground, lacking the strength to so much as keep his focus on any one spot. He couldn't think, he couldn't feel- he could barely understand the question.

"Is he... dead," he muttered mindlessly, staring down at his bloodied arm once more. While he could comprehend very little at that moment, he did know that he couldn't bear to look down at the blade any longer. The sight of it made him feel sick to his stomach to the point where he thought he would kneel over. Eventually, he managed to gingerly clap and reform the blade back to it's original shape, but the blood still coated his hand and dripped through the metal plates of his arm.

"I see," Riece drawled from above. "I suppose I'll have to check for myself. Edward; are you listening?"

He only shut his eyes and tightened his hands into fists, focusing primarily on keeping his legs from buckling.

"I'm going to put Alphonse away for safe keeping while I go down there. You won't be able to find him without me, so don't get any funny ideas, alright?"

Ed didn't respond, but he did vaguely recognize the warning in the back of his mind. Seeing as he wasn't going to get any more out of the blond, Riece shrugged and began walking down to the exit of the catwalk as he pulled out a notepad and began scribbling inside of it's pages. He soon disappeared behind a door, temporarily leaving Edward alone with the colonel.

Registering that he was alone, he cracked his eyes open onto to see a growing pool of blood spreading where the man laid. He shut them again as his breath hitched and a mangled sob threatened to break through his lips. A daunting conglomeration of misery and regret threatened to suffocate him and he simply stood there, disconnected from the rest of the world.

"Ed..." The fragile, strained voice effortlessly grabbed his attention. The blond snapped his eyes open, which were blurry and wet from unshed tears, to see Mustang watching him through flickering eyelids, struggling just to keep them open.

He wasn't sure how he managed, but Edward somehow took a few leaden steps closer to the colonel before dropping to his knees at the man's side. His body was shaking like a leaf as he fought to find something to say. Words alluded him as he looked down at the bloodstained alchemist, who still did not hold any signs of resentment towards the kid who had caused him so much suffering.

"Oh god... I- Mustang, I- I can't- I'm s-so-" Edward stuttered and chocked over his own words, unable to properly formulate everything he wanted to say. He was sickened by how familiar this situation felt to him, but somehow, the colonel did not seem phased.

When he finally did understand why it was so familiar, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He once had a nightmare about killing Mustang. Even as he apologized, wrapped by despair, the man did not forgive him. He was hated for what he had done, but that was where the two cases differed.

"This isn't your... fault," the older man forced himself to say, grimacing as he did so.

"The hell it is! I didn't mean to- I don't know what I was thinking! I wasn't thinking, I just- I- god- I'm so sorry. I-" He cut himself off when his voice cracked and he dug his flesh fingers into his bangs, unable to bring the automail one any closer to him. "P-please... don't die."

Mustang looked at him sadly and opened his mouth to reply, but paused when the metal door on the far wall screeched open, then clanged shut as Riece approached the two alchemists. Good to his word, Alphonse was nowhere to be seen, but he instead had a gun in hand; the same one he lent to Edward many weeks ago, if he was not mistaken.

But he didn't care about Riece at the moment. He looked back down to the colonel and immediately felt the blood drain from his face. Mustang was no longer looking at him, his eyes empty and vacant as he stared off to the side at nothing. The hand that was desperately clutching his own side had slackened, doing nothing to cease the blood flow.

"... Mustang?" Ed asked slowly, uncaring of how his voice gave away his terror. He wanted to believe that he saw the man's eyes twitch slightly, but aside from that possibility, there was no response.

"Mustang!" he shouted and placed a shaking hand on his shoulder, lightly enough as though he still feared hurting him. His fingers dug into the fabric, afraid that letting go would allow him to drift away forever, if he hadn't already.

But still, there was no response.

"No, no, no, no, please, no," Edward whispered voicelessly as dread quickly engulfed him, leaving him feeling cold and helpless.

"Seems like he didn't have a whole lot of fight left in him," Riece mused with a satisfied smirk as he stopped inches away from the downed colonel's body. Edward's eyes jumped up to him just as the man gestured away with the nose of his gun, which was aimed in the kid's general direction. "Why don't you step aside for a moment, alright Edward?"

Riece was quick to draw his attention back to Mustang, almost as if he easily forgot about the blond's existence. Almost with disinterest, he unceremoniously kicked Mustang's side and watched for a reaction.

Edward stared wide eyed at the man, feeling entirely void. Slowly and without breathing, he rose to his feet and spared a moment to ensure that his quivering legs would not give out underneath him.

He cast a single glance to the gun that was still pointed towards him, then made a decision.

With a quick step forward, he ducked beneath the range of the weapon and collided his metal fist into Riece's jaw with every shred of vengeful strength that he could muster.

The gun went off, grazing the blond's arm, but it did nothing to slow him down. Invigorated by pure rage, he shoved himself into the man's gut with the sole purpose of getting him away from Mustang. The gun slipped from his grip and his balance was thrown off from the collision. He stumped backwards and was dragged onto his back by the alchemist, who was kneeling over him in the same second.

Riece blinked up at the kid, disoriented and confused, and opened his mouth to speak. However, Edward did not want to hear it. He roughly grabbed onto the man's collar and pulled him up slightly only to make it easier for him to punch him in the cheek, then again in the nose, satisfied by the crack that was heard.

"You sick, twisted bastard!" he screamed as he punched the man again, paying no mind to the blood that was speckled onto his metal fist. His automail was already stained with the liquid; what did a little more matter?

Once again, his knuckles collided into Riece's face without holding back. "This is all your fault, god dammit!"

Blood streamed down the rip in his lip as well as his now broken nose and the many new cuts on his jawline and cheek from where Ed's fist had punctured. He slowly lolled his head to the side and had to gall to smile at the kid, teeth splotched with red.

"Ah, but I've never killed anyone," he said quietly, eyes wild with a disgusting joy and enthralled by the irony he saw. "You, Edward- your hands are dripping with blood. You've already ended the lives of two people. I wonder; will you make it three?" As Edward froze from his words, Riece burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, pausing only to spit blood out of his mouth.

Not until Ed locked onto his sardonic, insane expression did he realize what Mustang had been trying to get across to him all this time. It was true that he had played a part in a murder and nothing would ever change that, but he was wrong to call himself a killer. When he looked at Riece as he was now, he clearly understood the difference between a victim who made a mistake, and someone who gained some sort of enjoyment, achievement, or sense of accomplishment from hurting others and would continue to do so time and time again if given the opportunity. He was looking into the eyes of a true killer.

But this revelation did nothing to quell his anger. In fact, it only burned brighter. A blinding wrath coursed through him as he glared daggers at the man who was currently at his mercy. Before, Ed was only taking out his pent up frustration and sorrow and thirst for revenge onto Riece, but now he had snapped.

"SHUT UP!"

He punched Riece across the face once again, effectively wiping the smile away and putting an abrupt end to the disturbing laughter. All focus was immediately drained from his eyes and he stared off to the side, unable to ignore the pain any longer.

"You're wrong," Edward hissed as he grabbed the man's collar with both hands and shook him to ensure that he was listening. "My hands may be covered in blood, but  _you_ are the murderer! You're a soulless, inhuman murderer! A monster! Don't you dare say that I'm worse than you!"

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he was only further infuriated by Riece's silence. After so long of only talking,  _now_ he decided to be quiet- when Edward finally wanted something from him. What it was, he wasn't sure. Perhaps he just wanted everything to be fixed. Maybe if Ed finally got revenge for what he had done to him and Al, then everything would be okay.

But of course, that was impossible. The damage had already been done and nothing could ever make it better. In that moment, it felt as if nothing would ever get better, even as the source of his misery was laying before him, bloodied and battered.

Edward clenched his teeth and tightened his grip around the fabric of Riece's collar.

"Dammit!" he growled again through his teeth and forcefully releasing his grip, allowing Reice's head to drop back on the concrete. By this point, Ed had failed to notice or care that the man had fallen unconscious. But still he was unsatisfied. Getting a few punches to the face did nothing to make up for what this monster had done.

Without thinking, Edward swiftly reached for the gun that was off to his side and the muzzle was pressed up against Riece's forehead within seconds, who was helpless to defend himself.

While he did just realize the biggest difference between himself and the unconscious man before him, Ed did not want to consider if what he was contemplating would make the realization pointless. He pretended not to care, because all he knew at that moment was that Riece would only continue to spread misery so long as he was alive. He was a vile creature who wasn't good enough to be locked up in prison for the rest of his miserable life. Someone needed to spare the rest of the world.

He didn't care what doing so would turn him into.

That is exactly what Edward told himself as he forced his finger to tighten around the trigger.

"Ed!"

His arm went rigid and his breath was caught in his throat as he heard the voice and felt a light tug on the end of his coat. Slowly, he turned his head to look behind him.

Mustang had pushed himself onto his stomach and had crawled just close enough to grab onto Ed's coat, leaving a smeared trail of blood behind him. He was propping himself up with his other arm, his previously empty eyes alight with a sense of urgency.

"Don't," he begged breathlessly. "Don't kill him."

Immediately, all thoughts of Riece had vanished and the gun fell from his grasp. One look at Mustang's expression caused a wave of guilt to wash over him, but he was far too stunned by the realization that he was alive to consider it. Ed turned his back to the man and faced the colonel, inching himself closer on the cold ground, silenced by the overwhelming confusion and relief that battled for dominance.

As Edward gaped to find something to say, Mustang regarded the blond as he tried to pull himself up to a position that was akin to sitting, pain flashing across his face as he did so. The question of  _how_ was clearly evident on the kid's expression.

"I was faking it," he strained to say, watching as Ed's golden eyes widened. "Most of it... Well, part of it."

"B-but I- I stabbed you." His gaze fell to the wound in Mustang's side. "I thought... you-" he trailed off, mind spinning too quickly for him to know how to finish.

"It's not as deep as it looks," he answered with a pallid smile. While the overall weakness that accompanied blood loss was now faked, the true extent of his condition was.

Edward only stared for a moment longer, unsure if he should believe the man or not. But the truth was sitting right in front of him, right? Because Mustang  _wasn't_ dead, and he wasn't the one to kill him.

 _Not yet, anyway,_ a small voice felt the need to remind him. The colonel was still losing blood and they still needed to find Alphonse and get out of there, but at least for the moment, Ed allowed himself to only focus on the miracle that was staring back at him.

Ed quickly inched closer and wrapped his arms around Mustang, catching him by surprise, still trembling from all the emotion that had plowed over him. However, he noticed the man flinch slightly from the movement from the cut in his side and began to back off before he accidentally did any more damage. But before he could, an arm slid behind his back and kept him from withdrawing. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second before continuing to return the hug.

"I'm sorry," Edward mumbled as he further pressed his head into the Colonel's chest. "I know you told me to, but I- I still attacked you-  _again_. And I- I-" He sniffed miserably. "And Riece... I almost k-killed him... I almost became just as bad as he is."

"First of all," Mustang began, his voice hoarse. Each word seemed arduous to articulate, but he persisted. "There's nothing you can do to become as bad as him. And besides, that's what I'm here for; to stop you from making stupid mistakes until you learn for yourself."

Edward was silent for a moment, absorbing the words and storing them for later. "But still... you won't always be there. And I should know these things by now."

"Like it or not, but you're still just a kid, Ed. You have plenty of time to figure it out."

Edward  _hmph_ ed but didn't quite have it in him to argue at the moment, and instead settled for tightening his arms around the man's torso stubbornly. He didn't quite understand why the colonel was trying to downplay what almost happened. He expected Mustang to call him an idiot and lecture him, based on how often he insisted to Ed that he wasn't a murderer for the part he played in Tresler's death.

Although, before all of this began, the older alchemist referred to killing as a necessary evil; something that was commonly done in the military and a reality that Ed had to accept. Perhaps he was simply re-adopting that mindset after seeming to discard it only when the kid was the subject.

At the same time, a voice in the back of his head suggested that maybe Mustang just related too much to give Ed any grief over almost shooting Riece. Even the mention of his name often caused the colonel to respond with looks that could kill. Perhaps he also wanted Markus dead, but just didn't want Ed to be the one to do it.

"Second of all, you missed," Mustang continued, interrupting the blond's straying thoughts. He shifted his weight, holding himself up with one hand as the other held the distressed kid close.

"I... what?"

Mustang nodded even though Ed was not looking to see it. "I guided your arm when you weren't looking, Ed. But before I did, you missed me."

Edward said nothing at first, too stunned to speak. He almost didn't want to believe what he heard and questioned just how possible it was for him not to notice. Although, he supposed since he didn't have any nerves in his automail arm, if Mustang were to change it's course in such a situation, he could have easily overlooked it.

"I'm sorry I put you through that," the man added solemnly. "I would have told you, if it wasn't for..." he trailed off, turning his head to look at where Riece was a few feet away. If he planned on continuing, Ed quickly took the opportunity away from him.

"You idiot," he chastised, squinting his eyes shut as he further buried himself into the fabric of Mustang's shirt. "You damn, stupid idiot! You could have gotten yourself killed, pulling a stunt like that!"

"I know," he replied unapologetically, although the strain that was still in his voice did little to mollify the blond.

"Why would you do that?!"

"I didn't see any other way. It was either me or Al, and I don't think him trying to play dead would work out too well."

Ed lightly glared up at him and was about to continue berating him, until a far more important thought struck him. "Al!"

Understanding the not-so-silent cue, the colonel's arm fell from around him and instead was used to help hold himself up as Edward forced himself to his feet, ignoring how his legs still shook from underneath him. He narrowly stopped himself from immediately charging through the other door and seemed to lead up to the catwalk. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be-" he paused, eyes snapping towards the warehouse's entrance. Ed followed his gaze, unsure as to what he was looking at, until he eventually noticed that the sliding door had been cracked open.

The two alchemists only stared for a tense moment, in which Edward began to wonder if he should slide the gun that had been abandoned on the floor over to Mustang. Until finally, their worries dissolved as a familiar face further opened the door and stepped inside.

Covered in snow and with a gun in hand, Maes Hughes closed the door behind him to block out the worst of the cold, scanning the room with his calculating gaze, until his eyes landed on the bleeding colonel. Despite the early hour of the morning, he was dressed in the signature military uniform.

"Oh my god, Roy, what happened?!" he asked urgently as he quickly slid the gun back into it's holster and hurried over to the two alchemists.

"What are you doing here?" he asked instead of answering the question.

"Does that matter right now? Why are you bleeding all over the floor?!"

Edward cleared his throat and pointed to Hughes. "He's here because I told him you were missing." He then pointed to Mustang. "And he's bleeding on the floor, because of that guy," he finished, swiveling himself to then point at Riece. He still felt terrible about hurting the colonel himself, but adding that part in would only lead to more questions that he didn't have time for.

Hughes followed his gesture over to Riece for a moment, then looked back at the two alchemists. He clearly wanted to know the whole story, but just shook his head as he lowered himself to Mustang's side to examine the wound.

"By the way, your handwriting is terrible, Ed."

"Huh?"

Hughes pulled his focus away from his friend for a moment to fetch a note out of his pocket; the same note that Ed had written on and taped back to the bar door earlier that night.

"I couldn't make out any of these numbers. The only reason I found this place at all is because I figured you took a taxi and managed to find the guy who drove you." With that said, he returned to studying the wound, leaving Edward slightly flushed.

"... Well... Whatever. Better late than never," the blond muttered. He was in no mood to defend his handwriting at the moment, and had much more important concerns at the moment anyway.

"Long story," he heard the colonel mutter as he allowed himself to slide back down onto his back when Hughes asked where the cut came from.

"We have some time," he said as he prodding the wound, then started to remove his military jacket. "I called for backup just in case. Once they get here, we can get you some real medical attention," he said as he tied the sleeves of his jacket around Mustang's waist pulled them tightly to staunch the bleeding, causing the colonel to mutely grimace. He somehow managed to keep his eyes open, but he definitely looked close to passing out.

Edward simply watched, relieved that Hughes was there to help. His presence allowed him to search for his brother without feeling the need to simultaneously worry about Mustang.

"I'm gonna go look for Al," he said and began to step towards the door."

"Wait," Hughes began quickly. "Are you hurt?"

Edward blinked, idly wondering if his eyes were still red from his earlier sniveling. "No."

"What about your arm?"

At first, he thought the lieutenant colonel was mistaking the blood that coated his arms to be his own, until he glanced down and noticed the cut where the bullet Riece had shot grazed him. It had been numbed by adrenaline until the other man pulled his attention to it, but even so, it was the least of his worries.

"Just a scratch," he assured and again stepped closer to the door.

"But-"

"I gotta find Al!" And with that said, he hurried through the door, leaving the sighing Hughes and the weakly chuckling Mustang by themselves.

Through the door was only a dimly-lit stairwell that shook with every step he took up it. There wasn't anything of note on his way up, besides the single door that lead up to the catwalk. He paused at the top of the stairs, confused, and looked back down the narrow room, wondering what he had missed. Riece had told him that Ed couldn't find his brother without him, so he naturally began to fear the worst. As much as he would have liked that to be a lie, he didn't see where the man could have hid him.

Once he walked out onto the catwalk, he saw that there was another door at the other end which he suspected lead to more storage. But he was certain Riece never went through there, so Al had to be somewhere nearby.

Edward put a hand on the rail as he looked down to the main room. He could hear Hughes and Mustang talking, but was unable to make out any of their words. However, he didn't need to overhear them to know that Hughes was asking questions and Mustang was reciting the story. Next to them, Riece looked to still be unconscious, thankfully.

He hadn't noticed just how much blood had been spilled until he got to a higher vantage point, but it was rather unsettling. And not all of it belonged to Mustang, he realized as he cast a glare down to Reice's limp body.

Did that psychopath deserve to get beat up?

Absolutely.

Was it right? Should Ed have done that?

He wasn't sure. But now certainly wasn't the time to think about it.

He just had to find Alphonse.

Edward walked back into the stairwell and scanned the walls, the steps, the ceiling, the ground, but it was all bear. There was no place in sight where a small piece of metal could be hidden.

"Al!" he yelled suddenly, probably startling the two men outside. "Alphonse! Where are you!?" He took a few more steps down as he called, straining his ears for an answer.

Until finally, he heard something: a faint, muffled sound that could have easily been his imagination.

His heart started racing and he continued to call, running up and down the stairs, trying to pinpoint where the faint sound was coming from. His hands were shaking and his pulse was beating loudly in his ears, almost interfering with his task. But nothing would stop him from finding his brother. Not when he was  _so close._

It took several minutes of frantically racing across the stairs, but Edward eventually closed in on one spot mid-way up. The dim lights had obscured it before, but as he traced his hand over the wall, he easily noticed the transmutation marks.

Since when was Riece an alchemist?

But whatever. That didn't matter- nothing mattered, besides him finding Alphonse after missing him for a month.

"Al!" He yelled again, pressing his ear against the wall.

And again, he heard a muffled sound in response- except he was certain now that it was a voice; the voice of his missing brother.

That was more than enough confirmation.

Edward clapped his hands together and pressed them against the wall. With an alchemic spark, a small, pre-made hole was revealed behind. Although, based on how deep it was, calling it a tunnel may have been more accurate.

"Brother!" Al's voice rang out clearly from the end of the long hole, sending a jolt of sheer joy through the older Elric.

Ed gaped as he peered inside, overcome with happiness to utter a word until he finally managed to compose himself.

He threw his arm into the hole and felt around for the small piece of metal that was his brother, but- something was wrong.

His arm was too short.

But somehow, even that was not enough to disrupt his euphoric mood. Edward quickly transmuted his automail arm into a hook and stuck it back into the hole. He blindly fumbled until he heard, rather than felt, his arm catching something inside. He swiftly pulled back, holding his breath as he slid a small plate of armor into his hand. Turning it over, the blood seal stared back at him, undamaged in any way.

Before he could get a word out, his legs gave out and he stumbled down to sit on one of the steps, staring down at what remained of his brother, almost in disbelief.

"Al... Al, I- thank god..."

"Ed!" his brother cut in quickly. "You're not hurt are you? Are you okay?! What happened out there!? And- and- all this time- I was so worried about you! I thought that-"

"None of that matters now, Al," Edward choked out with a large smile spread across his face. In spite of his delight, his eyes began to water as he looked down at his brother for the first time in so long. "All that matters now is that you're safe. And alive." He hugged the small plate of metal close to his chest, inwardly swearing that nothing would ever make him let go. Not until he could recreate his armor, anyway.

Alphonse was silent for a moment, as if the reality that he was finally safe was just beginning to sink in and the hope that all of this was finally behind them began to flourish.

"But- but what about Riece?" the younger brother asked nervously.

Edward was quiet for a beat as he looked down at his brother with a weary smile. "I beat the crap out of him." No need to mention the part about the gun. Not yet, anyway.

Alphonse laughed lightly but it quickly dissipated. "And, Ed..." he started slowly. The uncertainty that easily slipped into his voice made Ed freeze. "About what happened with-"

"Hold on, Al," the older brother cut in as his smile faded. He was positive that Al had many questions, many surely about the tales Riece had told him, none in which he wanted to answer. "I'll explain everything later. Just... not right now, okay?"

He sighed, looking down at the fragile blood seal in his hands. Alphonse was safe, Mustang wasn't dead, Hughes was bringing backup, and they would get Riece thrown behind bars forever. Everything seemed like it was tying up nicely, but Edward knew he couldn't rest just yet.

What lies had Riece been filling Al's head with since his capture? And even worse, what truths had he included? His brother was still thrilled to see him again, but he knew a conversation about what had transpired the past few weeks was imminent.

If Edward was being honest with himself, he was terrified. But at least for the moment, he decided to focus on what was right in front of him.

"... Okay, Brother."


	29. Chapter 29

"No."

"Come on, Al-"

"It's not going to happen, Brother."

"You don't have to stop overall, but just-"

"No!"

"Why not?!"

With his iron arms folded tenaciously, Al's armor clanked as he shifted to face the older brother.

"I'm not going to stop helping people who ask for it."

"But what if this happens again?" Edward asked insistently, flailing his arms.

"Not everyone who wants my help with something is planning on kidnapping me and blackmailing you."

"You don't know that!"

Alphonse huffed exasperatedly as he studied Edward for a moment, who was staring expectantly back at him and gripping onto the arms of his chair as if the argument depended on it. The dark circles under his eyes proved that he was tired and not thinking clearly, but he seemed restless and unable to shut them for anything more than to blink. Regardless, Al wasn't planning on taking anything he said too seriously until he got some rest.

"When did you get so paranoid?" he asked rhetorically. He didn't mean much by the offhanded comment, but Ed reeled back in his chair as if it physically startled him. His expression slid from mild shock to a pout within the same second.

"I'm not paranoid," he grumbled with his brow furrowed stubbornly. By the looks of it, Alphonse wasn't sure if Edward even believed himself.

"Okay, Ed," he relented simply to bring an end to the topic.

Edward had not left his side once since they arrived at the hospital early that morning. He had recreated Al's armor before leaving the warehouse, refusing to take another step until the younger Elric could as well. If Ed's injures were any worse, than he would have argued against his priorities, but he couldn't complain; it was comforting to have a body back, instead of being carried around like a lifeless object.

Ed's condition was not as bad as he had expected. Usually when the older brother got tangled up with criminals and such, he would return with broken ribs, a concussion, and a missing arm. But instead, he only had several bruises and the cut on his arm from where a bullet had grazed him, which had already been stitched closed.

Overall, he was fortunate. His wounds were no where near as bad as what Colonel Mustang sustained. Alphonse did not know all of the details, but he knew the older alchemist had fallen unconscious and was rushed to the hospital not long after Ed recreated Al's armor. They were close to follow, but after Ed was swiftly taken care of, they had been left to sit in the waiting room for many hours. In passing, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes suggested that they should head back to the dorms to get some rest, but Edward was insistent on staying.

As for Riece, Alphonse was glad to know that he was quickly transported to a cell at Central Command until they decided the full weight of his crimes, after receiving some medical attention for the beating Edward had given him. He hadn't actually seen the damage that was done to the man, but something told him that he didn't really need to know.

That was only one less thing to ask his brother, Alphonse supposed. However, that did not mean much in comparison to the many other questions that still needed answers. His attempts had nearly all been fruitless so far, except for when he inquired on how Edward got out of prison. Out of everything that needed explaining, that was apparently the simplest of them all.

Learning that Ed was freed because of Fuhrer Bradley of all people was a small comfort, but a comfort all the same. It was a much preferable outcome to his brother breaking out, as Riece had tried to convince him. If that was false, then he couldn't help but hope that his other tales were just as untrue.

But still, he was worried.

As much as he hated to admit it, Riece's memorable words returned to the surface every time he considered asking Edward again about the events that transpired over the past few weeks.

_You'll come face to face with Edward and ask for the truth, but how will you react when he's unable to look you in the eye? I've been watching him, and I'm certain that he'll be far too consumed by guilt to give you a straight answer. Will you still think he's so innocent then?_

So far, the man's prediction had been accurate. Every time the topic was brought up, Edward steered clear of all eye contact for as long as he could and jumped through hoops to avoid giving a decent answer. They were both aware that he could not continue hiding the truth forever, and the longer they waited, the more anxious Alphonse became.

Even if the older brother did not agree, they had to get this taken care of as soon as possible.

"Hey, Ed," Al began once he appeared to be done pouting. The blond glanced at him with a seemingly natural expression, but his gaze gave way to the alarms ringing in his head. "We should really talk abou-"

His golden eyes flashed to the other end of the waiting room and he immediately jumped to his feet, cutting the younger brother off. "Hey, the doctor's back! Maybe Mustang woke up," he exclaimed, voice jittery and nervous as he began to approach the older man in a white coat, who was speaking to a nurse at the end of the hall.

"Wha- Ed!"

"Come on, Al!"

He watched mutely in his seat as Edward bounded up to the doctor and began a conversation. With a echoed sigh, he also rose from his chair and followed. Just as he caught up, Ed thanked the doctor and began down the hall, apparently been given clearance to visit the colonel.

That was another strange thing Alphonse had noticed: Ed was surprisingly eager to see the older alchemist and was openly genuinely concerned for his condition.

Of course, the younger brother was always certain that the two alchemists never hated each other as much as they claimed, but he wasn't expecting this. The only explanation was that they had somehow managed to bond over the past few weeks. Strange, but it did help to alleviate Al's fear that Ed had actually tried to attack Mustang.

Edward soon disappeared as he turned into a room, in which Alphonse followed. As he walked in, he stopped abruptly before he could collide into his brother, who had paused upon entering. He was motionless, staring straight ahead.

Al followed his gaze and also stared mutely at the colonel laying in the hospital bed with the thin blanket pulled up to his chest, his arms resting above the covers, tightly bandaged. His pale skin was bruised, but color was slowly returning. His eyes were closed, but they soon flickered open as he sensed the Elric's presence and managed to grace them with a crooked smile, despite himself.

Taking it as an invitation to continue, Ed stepped further inside and plopped himself into a chair that was turned to face the side of the bed once he got over whatever made him freeze. Alphonse followed, but unlike his brother, had no desire to sit, so he remained standing by the blond's side, quietly taking in the appearance of Colonel Mustang.

"Hey," he greeted them both, then set his eyes on the suit of armor for a considerate moment. "It's good to see you again, Al."

His voice gave way to the honesty in his words that the classic Mustang-brand confidence would have usually covered up. Along with the fond smile that was in place, Alphonse had to admit to himself that he was surprised by the blatant sincerity. And to make it all the more surprising, something gave him the impression that the colonel was still happier than he let on.

A lot had changed since his capture, but much of it seemed to be for the better.

"It's good to see you too," he replied, masking his initial shock quite well. "How are you holding up?"

The older man shrugged, careful not to disrupt his damaged arms as he did so. "I've been worse. Won't have great control over my hands for a while. It's keeping Hawkeye from forcing paperwork on me, but it's also keeping me stuck here."

"How long will you be here?" Ed most likely failed to realize how intensely he was listening for the answer.

"The doctor, Hughes, and Hawkeye want to keep me here for a week at least. If I get my way, I'll be out in a few days," Mustang replied with a knowing smirk.

Ed only chuckled in response as he leaned back in the chair, oblivious to Al's confused staring.

He didn't understand.

He had been slowly processing the fact since he was reunited with his brother, but he still could not wrap his head around the reality that Edward Elric and Colonel Roy Mustang were sitting in the same room and not one death threat or short joke had been said. They didn't look like they wanted to kill each other in the slightest.

It didn't make sense.

He may not have been able to fully comprehend what he was seeing, but he was glad to see it. It was nice to know that those two have been able to be at least somewhat civil while he was gone.

"Any news on Riece?" Al tuned back into the conversation when Mustang mentioned the name of his kidnapper. He had been unconscious or talking to doctors since he arrived, and likely had no idea what had happened to the man. Unfortunately, the Elrics did not know much more.

"Not really. He was taken to HQ," Ed shrugged. "That's all I know."

"Did they find anything on him? Anything confiscated for evidence?"

"Like what?"

Alphonse suddenly gasped- or made the sound of a gasp. "His notebook!" The two State Alchemists turned to look at him expectantly, inviting him to elaborate. "Whenever he spoke to me, Riece was  _always_ writing something down as if he was recording my reactions. I'm certain he had it with him last night too."

"Weird," Edward muttered with traces of a scowl.

"That's perfect," Colonel Mustang replied after him. "Do either of you have any idea who has it now?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure I saw Lieutenant Colonel Hughes searching him before he was taken to HQ," Edward said after a moment of thought with his head tilted to the side.

"Let's hope he still has it," Mustang stated as he shifted his weight in the bed to sit up a little straighter. "That book might be what we need to pin him down to Tresler's death. I don't think that should be too hard now, since it looked like he had the same gun on him last night that was used to do it. I'll have to wait for the forensic guys to confirm that, however."

Before Edward could open his mouth to reply, they both froze when Al's armor body visibly jumped. He cycled the words through his mind, ensuring that he understood correctly before allowing his hopes to grow.

"It was Riece who killed Tresler?"

He was hoping for a confirmation, or the smallest of nods or even a hint of a smile- something besides those startled, trapped expressions would have been acceptable. But instead, the two alchemists looked at Alphonse as if they were caught in a headlight, then glanced at each other to have a brief, silent conversation. It was safe to say that their reaction swept the foundation from underneath Al's admittedly rising hopes, freely allowing them to crash back down.

With whatever secret messages they were sending to each other, Mustang apparently won the argument because Ed was the first to look away with a reluctant frown on his face.

After a painfully long second, Ed leaned forward in his seat and laced his fingers together, staring past them to the polished floor.

"Look, Al, I- I should tell you..." he paused and sighed deeply, sinking himself further into the chair, still unable to look his brother in the eyes.

"Ed..." He wasn't sure what he was going to say, but that was all he could manage. The single sound had a stronger effect on his brother than what was expected. The blond's eyes shut tightly and his hands almost began to shake with the strength that they were holding each other. But all at once, the strain that was evident slipped out as he sighed again and leaned back once more, finally bringing his eyes up to meet Al's soulfire gaze.

There was a brief moment in which Al thought Edward could tell him literally anything and he would be okay with it, all because he made eye contact as he said it.

"Back when you were first caught, I found Tresler that night... with the intent to kill him. But in the last second, I- I backed out. Or, I tried. Tresler got the gun and- well, the bullet ricocheted and hit him." He finally allowed his eyes to fall back to the floor, physically unable to look at Al any longer as he told the story, who had not found himself able to react in any way. "But I'm not trying to get out of the blame," Ed assured quickly in fear that his brother would not understand. "I'm really sorry for the part I played in that man's death, and I'll never forget that. But... but-"

"Riece is still the murderer." Alphonse finished the sentence for him before his mind could come to the same conclusion. Part of him was almost surprised by how well Ed was keeping himself together as he spoke, as if he had mentally rehearsed it. But still, he could not hide the regret that eclipsed his eyes.

Because Al knew his brother well and he knew that he was prone to holding himself responsible to incidents out of his control. However, saying that was only the easiest way to go about it.

He still had to wonder:  _was_ it out of Ed's control? Was there truly nothing else he could have done? These were questions that sickened him to wonder, but it would be even worse if he tried to simply shrug the matter off.

Edward only stared, stunned by his automatic response, until he was able to shake himself out of his a stutter a response. "But you- you can't just be so  _okay_ with that."

"I'm not," he corrected calmly without needing to put much thought into it. It was true that what Ed had done was terrible. Even if it didn't work out that way, he approached someone with the intention of ending their life. But overall, the news did not shock him. He had been forced to speculate the possible reality for at least a month by then and had no choice to be prepared to face the worst case scenario.

He was only disappointed.

But not in Ed. No, he was disappointed because even as he expected the worst, part of him was still naively hoping for the best conclusion possible. Perhaps it was childish to let himself think that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright. But in the end, the reality was neither as bad or as good as what he had expected. So how much could he really complain?

"I'm not okay with it, because it's just not okay," Al started. It was now his turn to struggle to keep eye contact. "But it wouldn't be fair for me to blame you. You thought he was going to kill me. I... I don't know what I would have done in that situation. I don't know if I would have been strong enough to make a decision."

Edward blinked at him, seemingly shocked by his words.

Alphonse felt as if there were still many things left unsaid and many issues that needed to be worked out. He still didn't quite know how he felt about it overall, but one thought overruled all others.

"I'm sorry, Ed."

"... What?"

He could practically feel the surprise emitting from both Ed and Mustang.

"This is my fault, isn't it? If I never fell for Riece's trick, then this-"

"Stop that," Edward quickly scolded, cutting his younger brother off. Al looked up, not realizing that his gaze had fallen. "Don't even try it, Al; I won't let you blame yourself for this mess too. It was Riece who started all of this by kidnapping you. You didn't get involved intentionally, so you're not to blame," he said firmly, allowing no room to argue the matter.

"Oh?" Mustang suddenly jumped in, drawing both of the brother's attention over to him. "You say he's not to blame because it was unintentional on his part? Interesting," he mused with a smile.

"What are you getting at?" Ed snapped halfheartedly.

"Nothing, nothing," the colonel went on, idly glancing out the window. "It's just that... that sounds a little like your situation too, don't you think?"

Ed opened his mouth to say something that was undoubtedly a sharp retort, but the words never came. After a moment, he only glared at the man and shut his mouth, pursed his lip, then opened it again. "Shut up."

When Mustang chuckled at his response, Alphonse fully understood why Edward had seemingly gotten so close to the colonel as of late. He didn't know to what extend Mustang had helped his brother over this past few weeks, but he knew he could ever thank the man enough.

* * *

Reclining behind his office desk, Roy silently stretched his hands, watching with a morbid fascination as his fingers did not extend as far as they were meant to. They could if he forced them to, but he was threatened with another trip to the hospital if he strained himself. It was safe to say that he was in no rush to test the insistent doctors who told him to take it easy.

Just as he had planned, Roy managed to escape their clutches just a few days after being admitted. The colonel knew Hughes and Hawkeye were gearing up to fight him on the matter, but it was surprisingly easy to convince them to agree. Roy needed to get back to work on the case now that they caught Riece before someone else stepped in to ruin everything, and they thankfully understood his urgency. Hughes had been taking care of things in his absence, but the media as well as the military's higher-ups were about to get restless.

After idly cracking his knuckles, Roy picked up the small notepad again and turned to the next page.

Riece had dedicated a notepad solely to recording his conversations with Alphonse and Edward. Roy had just gotten his hands on the book earlier that day and was reading through it for the first time, but so far, he and Hughes were the only people to lay eyes on it's contents, besides the man who wrote it.

To be honest, he found that reading it made him rather uncomfortable.

It somehow felt as if he was invading on Al's privacy by reading about his stay with the psychopath. Looking through the notepad might as well have been the equivalent of reading someone's diary. In that case, he was almost glad that some of it was impossible to understand. The thought nearly caused Roy to stop just so he could ask the kid for permission to continue, but he knew he didn't have time for that. The colonel told himself once again that it was for the good of the case, and continued.

Every note varied from being short and unclear, to long with great detail. Some of it would have looked like complete nonsense to anyone who did not know exactly what they were looking at. He supposed that made sense, considering Reice's history as a psychologist. Of course, Roy was aware that psychologists did not actively take notes in front of their patients to avoid interrupting the connection they were trying to make with them, but creating such a relationship was clearly not the goal when it came to the Elrics.

The notes began to follow a trend, he noticed as he got a few pages deeper.

Each new passage would obviously start with the date and time and would then go into how whichever Elric he was speaking to (primarily Alphonse) would react to his words or very presence. It would start by recording their reactions, both vocal and bodily. Riece focused on what they were feeling and thinking, rather than what was true.

The next section would then state the facts. Or at least, whatever the writer observed to be fact. He recorded everything from the general reactions, to the smallest, most minute signs in their body language. If the first part was all about Ed or Al's subjective view, then the next was focusing on what Riece saw to be objective.

Whenever the passage would continue further than the first two stages, it would then be followed by an overall assessment of how his  _patient_  was in general, and then would proceed to his next plan of action, which more or less consisted of how he was going to fill Al's head up with more lies.

It was despicable.

Disgusting.

Twisted.

Sick.

There was no one word to accurately describe the heinous acts that this man chose to commit. And to include two children...

Roy dropped the notebook back on the table with more force than was necessary and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head before flinching from the strain in his torn muscles and settling for leaving them on the armrests.

He couldn't bring himself to read any more. Not at the moment, anyway.

Besides, he already had what he needed to know.

They were far and few between, but both Edward and Victor Tresler were mentioned within the note pad's pages. Some of these notes were far more incriminating than others, however.

If anyone else were to read through these pages, it would be possible for them to figure out what Ed had been forced to do. Unfortunately, there was nothing inside that would hold enough weight to convince the reader that Riece was more to blame than Ed, since the man who wrote it actually appeared as if he did not think himself at fault.

Therefore, Roy could not allow anyone to read through the note pad- not as it was now, anyway. If that meant he would have to compromise case evidence, then so be it...

His list of crimes increased every day, it seemed. He only hoped to take this all to his grave.

For a moment, Roy allowed himself to wonder if scarifying so much was truly worth it. It only took him a fraction of a second to decide  _yes_ , it damn well was.

The colonel was given no choice. He would not be able to look at himself if he allowed Ed to come to any more harm because Roy was unwilling to make the hard decisions and do what was necessary.

Speaking of which, he planned on personally going down to the cell block and having a little chat off-record with the piece of trash who had been tormenting his boys. Riece knew too much about the Elric brothers, so Roy was going to take care of the dilemma before it grew into a problem.

With one look at his watch, he decided that there was no point in wasting anymore daylight. He slowly rose to his feet, mindful of the gash in his side that was still healing. He began walking around his desk to the door dividing him from the main office when he heard a rising clamor coming from the other side.

His suspicions were confirmed when he entered the larger room to see Edward in his flashy getup and the seven foot tall suit of armor besides him speaking animatedly to the soldier's who gleefully welcomed them back. Every member of his staff had run into the two brothers at one point or another during the past few days thanks to all of their frequent hospital visits, but the euphoria of seeing the iconic pair standing side by side after so long had not yet worn down.

Roy remained in the doorway for a moment longer, allowing himself a minute to simply enjoy the sight.

"Hey Colonel Bastard!"

Moment ruined.

At least, that's what his brain had tried to tell him, but he struggled to hide the smile that wanted to slip into his controlled expression. As Edward stood at the other end of the office with his arms folded confidentially, he looked more alive and happy than he had in weeks. Being back at the office with everyone he cared about did wonders to replace the fear in his eyes with rejuvenated life.

"How'd you manage to worm your way out of the hospital so early?"

"I have my ways," he replied with an arrogant wave of his hand.

Havoc, who was leaning back against his desk with his arms folded, scoffed and leaned closer to the Elrics. "More like Hawkeye just took pity on him."

"Well he is pretty pitiable," Edward commended and chuckled at the colonel's expense.

"Ungrateful little brat," Roy shot back with mock irritation in his tone as he stepped further into the office.

"What was that?!" he snapped back but the colonel lost his chance to reply when most of the other occupants in the room laughed at the kid's reaction and continued walking around him amiably. Despite the angered frown on Ed's face, he was soon sucked into the conversation once again, all thoughts of insults to his height long forgotten.

Again, the colonel stayed back and watched, allowing himself this simple pleasure. It felt to him as if the very sight of seeing his team talking vivaciously in his office just as they once did was all the reward he needed for the several weeks of strife prior.

But unfortunately, he couldn't afford to let himself enjoy it for as long as he would have liked to.

"Well," Roy said as he took another glance at his pocket watch. The one word managed to grab the attention of his staff and they all turned their heads towards him. "I'll be back in a little bit." With a short wave, he stepped around the Elrics and gave a small nod to Hawkeye, who swiftly fell into a step behind him.

"Where are you going?" Ed asked as both he and his brother turned to watch the two step out.

"I just need to take care of some loose ends; don't worry about it." Without casting them another glance, Roy and Hawkeye turned into the hall and began walking in the direction to the cell block. He caught some brief mutters as he did so, but paid them no mind. His focus was already set on the task at hand.

"Mustang."

He paused and withheld a sigh. He should have known it wouldn't have been that easy to simply walk out. Slowly, the colonel turned around to face Edward, who had followed them out. The kid stared back at him, his golden eyes shining with determination as he stood his ground.

"Where are you going?" he asked again. By this time, Alphonse had followed Ed out as well to watch whatever was happening. The two of them were clearly not on the same page at the moment,

With a soundless exhale, Roy relented. "I'm going to speak to Riece."

"I'm going too."

"Not a chance. He's no longer your problem, Ed."

"Yes he is! I need to see him for myself; I need to face him."

"No, you don't," he corrected the kid sternly. The thought of him getting anywhere near that psychopath again made his skin crawl with unease.

Edward let a moment pass before replying and glanced at the spectating Alphonse in the corner of his eye, then shifted his focus back onto the colonel. "I need to prove to myself that I'm not afraid of him."

"I think you proved that days ago," he replied and wearily rubbed his eyes, although the effect was lost with the poor mobility of his hands.

"But I didn't." Something strange and out of place caused Roy to lower his hand from his face and study the blond. Whatever Ed wanted to say, he was struggling to get the words out. His hands curled into fists and he opened his mouth to continue, but it took several seconds of mental prompting before he managed. "Because I... I'm still afraid of him... So I need to see it for myself." He spoke slowly, his words subdued and arduous to articulate.

For what felt like several seconds, Roy could only stare, mouth slightly ajar. He was thrown off by Edward's honesty, but what was most shocking was the fact that he admitted to his fears right in front of his brother; the one person who he never wanted to show them to. If that was not a sentiment of Ed's determination to see this through, then he didn't know what was.

This situation reminded him of the day Edward was arrested. One would expect Roy to learn from his mistakes by then, but sadly, that appeared not to be the case. Life would have been much easier for the colonel if only he would hold fast and refuse the kid's request, but there was one thing that kept him from doing just that.

As Edward has said, he was still afraid. If he did not face his fears, then they would not go away. Perhaps the kid needed to see the man who had been tormenting him and haunting his nightmares in a state of defeat before he could ever move on.

"Alright," he breathed, idly wondering if Hawkeye disapproved.

"Then I'm going too," Alphonse suddenly added.

"No way," Ed shot back quickly, turning to face the suit of armor. "You've already spent far too much time with that guy."

"That's not fair, Brother."

"I don't have to be fair." The look that Al somehow managed to give off earned a sigh out of the older blond as he dropped a fraction of his stubbornness. "You don't have to go, Al. I can tell. But I  _need_ to... Just let me do this."

Alphonse was silent for a beat before his helmet nodded. "Okay," he gave in at last, somehow emanating dissatisfaction and understanding at the same time.

Roy and Hawkeye mutely watched as Ed gave his brother a smile and told him he would be back soon before continuing onward to catch up to the two soldiers. He watched the blond out of his peripheral vision, wondering if this was a good idea or not. But he supposed there was nothing to worry about, after the beating Ed had given Riece the other night.

The walk down the halls and into the cell block was a quiet one, filled only by the sounds of their footsteps.

Once they reached the correct row, Hawkeye stayed back to stand guard and the two alchemists continued forwards. Roy purposefully walked slowly as he kept an eye on Ed, watching him grow increasingly more nervous as they got closer. However, he was hiding it well enough.

"As far as anyone else is concerned, this conversation never happened," Roy informed once Riece's cell was in eyesight.

Edward didn't say anything besides a distracted "right" and kept walking.

Once they reached their target, the blond stayed back and out of view, allowing the colonel to take the lead. Something told him that Ed didn't plan on saying much, considering he already had the chance to get his anger out. He was only there because he thought watching was necessary. And maybe it was. If there was a chance his presence would help him, then Roy wasn't about to stand in the way.

Taking his mind off of the kid, Roy stepped out in front of the cell in question, shoulders square and composure giving nothing away. Riece was sitting on the thin bed, facing the side wall with a distant, bored look in his eyes. However, it only took him a moment to notice the colonel standing by. At the sight of Roy, the man perked up and rose to his feet as if he were greeting an old friend.

"Ah, Colonel Mustang; what a surprise," he drawled with an unstable smile stretched across his face, as if he was trying far too hard to hide whatever was underneath the mask. Since his incarceration, he had chosen to take the same approach as Ed and remain almost entirely silent through every session of questions, but his reasons were far different than the kid's. While Ed was trapped in a corner back then and given no choice but to stay quiet, Riece appeared as if he was waiting for something. He had plenty to say if he chose to, but perhaps he was waiting to speak to Roy again, given his apparent excitement.

"Welcome to my new office," he continued sarcastically, spreading his arms out to gesture to the small, enclosed area as if it was an impressive sight. He seemed oblivious to the busies and bandaged cuts that littered his face

"Don't get used to it," Roy replied without missing a beat. "You'll be sent to prison soon enough."

"Ah, prison," he sung and shifted his weight. "It wasn't such a bad place when Sophia was there as well. Even though she was a tad cross with me."

Roy truly felt bad for the girl. Being a prison guard at the very same place that her own psychotic father had been sent to must have been difficult, to say the least.

He considered replying with another sharp remark, as the very sight of the man still made his blood boil, but held himself back and chose to get on with his point. No need to stretch this out any longer than necessary.

"You must realize that you cannot continue to refuse answering questions forever," Roy began, pointedly ignoring the man's previous comment. "One way or another, you will eventually be brought to trail to answer for your crimes."

"Crimes?" Riece asked, portraying an expression of feigned surprise. "What crimes? Do you mean the unfortunate death of Victor Tresler? See, I never laid a hand on him; that was all Edward's doing."

"No it wasn't!"

Roy fought to keep a frown from slipping on when Ed stormed into view and pointed a threatening finger at Riece through the bars.

"You're the one who blackmailed me by kidnapping my brother," he growled as if the caged man needed to be reminded.

"Oh?" he mused quietly with a sinister grin that reminded the colonel of a sadistic cat who had just trapped a mouse. Whatever he was planning, he just made Ed walk right into it- and Roy didn't like it one bit.

"You have a lot to answer for," he interjected in hopes of taking Riece's attention away from Ed. "There's nothing you can say or do to get out of it."

The prisoner did not reply at first in favor of simply examining the alchemists who stood before him. Not once did the smile falter. Eventually, he laughed. But it was not the same joyful laugh that he often used; this one was more like a low grumble from the back of his throat.

"What does it even matter?" he asked slowly, eyes falling to stare past them at nothing. "Without Sophia- without my daughter, I have nothing. Nothing matters; not life, nor death. I cannot bring myself to care about what happens to me anymore. But I might as well have a bit of fun while I still can." He looked at the two as if they were nothing more than objects intended for his own entertainment.

Roy subtly pursed his lip, disgusted by how this man seemed incapable of seeing them or anyone else as actual humans who were worth more than tools for his own personal pleasures. He usually wasn't one to let his emotions get the better of him, especially in front of the enemy, but this was getting ridiculous.

He lurched forward and firmly grasped onto one of the bars of the cell, too preoccupied by the satisfaction he gained by how Riece took a defensive step back when the cage rattled to care about the strain in his arm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Edward jump slightly, startled as well by the sudden movement.

Having no more patience, Roy peered balefully into the cell, eyes cold and voice colder. "Just admit to blackmailing Edward and keep your mouth shut about Alphonse' blood seal, or else I will personally make the remainder of your miserable life a living hell."

Besides a mutely surprised blink, Riece did not respond at first and instead hummed contemplatively, continuing to treat this all as a game.

"Let's weigh my options, shall we?" he started, folding his arms. "You want me to be honest, don't you? But how could I be expected to tell the  _truth_ if you want me to  _lie?_ Asking such a thing of me would simply be immoral!" he exclaimed, waving his wrist in the air for emphasis. "If I were to tell everyone what happened, then I couldn't leave out the part about how Edward willingly took the gun and shot Tresler in the chest. That would just be wrong! And we can't have that now, can we?"

With his eyes narrowed as irritation rose, Roy opened his mouth to reply but was swiftly cut off when Edward shifted in besides him, glaring into the cell.

"Except I never shot him." Both Roy and Ed were fully aware that he still held himself partially responsible, but if Riece was going to nitpick at small details, then there was no reason as to why they couldn't do the same.

Riece paused for once and the arrogant smile twitched as he stared down at the blond, lost for words. However, he quickly recovered. "What are you talking about? I saw the body myself."

"I didn't fire that bullet."

Again, a silence stretched over them as Riece worked on composing himself and hiding the surprise. After a moment, he forced the smile back into place. "Clever, clever," he muttered. "But regardless: all you have is your word. There's no reason for me or anyone else to believe you. And-" he cut himself off, looking closely at the blond, who frowned uncomfortably in response. "I wonder: do  _you_  even believe that?"

"Wha-"

"I can see it," Riece continued, cutting Edward off as a victorious air surrounded him. "The blame- the guilt... You're saying what you have to, but you can't forgive yourself for what you've done. And maybe you'll never be able to. Because for every day that passes where you don't think about Tresler's dying breath, brings you one step closer to what you're most afraid of: becoming another heartless monster."

Edward took an unconscious step back from the cell, the defiance long gone from his expression and replaced by the same fear that had plagued him since all of this began.

"That's enough," Roy snapped. Riece was trying to mess with the poor kid's head. He picked out a weakness and pressed it until he got a reaction; it wasn't hard to see that even all of this was simply for entertainment as well.

"You can't protect him from the past, Colonel," he snapped back just as quickly, then drew his eyes back onto the blond. "Just as you can't protect yourself from the past. You chose your path and now you must walk it; the path of someone who's hands are tainted. I wonder how Alphonse will cope..."

The mention of his brother was at least able to jar him out of his trance enough to manage a reply. "Al understood. He-"

"Did he really? Or was he just saying that? Everyone is a liar, Edward. The news that his own brother has ended the life of another human being must surely be eating him up on the inside. And yet you would rather convince yourself that everything is fine."

"N- no, that's not..." Edward trailed off, failing to realize that he was stepping further away from the cell until he was stopped by the opposing wall. His eyes were distant, haunted by demons that Roy had vainly hoped were gone by now. "No, Al, he- he... Oh god," he muttered as he shakily wrapped his arms around himself.

At the sight of his subordinate, an enraged, yet cold fire roared to life within him. This could not go on.

"Hawkeye," he called down the hall to the lieutenant, who approached in response. He gestured to the distressed Edward with a single glance and she gently placed a hand on his shoulder. The blond flinched before recognition reached his eyes and he allowed himself to be guided away to calm down. As much as Roy wanted to follow and lend his assistance, his attention was unfortunately required elsewhere. He trusted Hawkeye to get through to him.

His sharp gaze switched to Riece, who was watching the two blonds disappear from his view with a satisfied grin in place.

In a single motion, Roy pulled a key ring out of his pocket and unlocked the cell. Riece barley had enough time to notice before he was grabbed by the collar and roughly shoved against the concrete wall of the cell. His head collided against it and left him momentarily disoriented. Roy patiently waited an entire two seconds before shaking him again to reclaim his attention.

"You  _will_  stop tormenting Ed and Al. Understand?" Roy asked slowly, his voice low and underlined by a silent threat.

Once Riece recollected himself, he studied the colonel, the smile finally wiped from his face. Instead, it was replaced by a drained and empty frown. "Or what?" he eventually replied. "What else could you possibly take away from me?"

Roy set his jaw, shifting through every possible response as he mutely glared at the man. Before he could select one, the corner of Reice's lips twitched with a feeble smirk.

"Exactly," he breathed. "You don't have anything to hang over my head besides threatening physical harm. But that's not worth what you could possibly lose, isn't that right? As I said, there's nothing you can take from me. But... fortunately for you, there is something you can give me."

"You think I would  _give_ you anything? After everything you've done?" he growled as his knuckles whitened from the force in which he held the prisoner's collar with.

"You have no choice," Riece replied quickly as if he was afraid he'd lose his chance if he waited too long. "You see, I couldn't stand to go back to prison now that Sophia is gone. So I will agree to admit to whatever you want, as long as you agree to find a way for me to escape."

" _What!?"_ Roy could hardly believe what he was saying. The audacity-

"Don't misunderstand," the man continued, raising his hands almost as a sign of surrender. "I still hate you. I still believe my daughter would be here today if it wasn't for your interference. But I am no stubborn fool; after rethinking some things, I have decided that I would much rather conspire with the enemy than rot in prison without her there with me."

Roy stared at a loss for words until the only appropriate response came to mind. "You're insane." He forcefully released the man and stepped back to quietly scrutinize him.

Riece staggered and caught himself against the wall once the force against him was removed. After a moment, he recovered his balance and again, smiled. "Insane... That's simply nothing more than a hollow title given to those who think differently."

"If you think for a moment that I would let you walk after-"

"You care for Edward, do you not?" Riece asked, interrupting the colonel. "And you'll do anything to ensure he's happy, right? Then allowing me to get out of sight and therefore out of mind is the only solution... Wouldn't you agree? Besides, there's nothing more for me in Amestris. I'll be far out of your way."

He did not respond or give anything away besides the solid, unreadable expression that he wore so often when the gears in his head were turning.

"You'll get a confession from me, and I'll disappear. All you need to do in pull some strings. Sounds like a victory to me," Riece went on shamelessly.

A long moment of silence passed before anything else was said. Riece continued to smile, radiating confidence. Eventually, Roy turned and stepped out of the cell, locking the barred door behind him.

"I've had enough of this," he muttered as he stuffed the key ring back into his pocket. After casting the man who continued to look quite sure of himself one more wary glance, the colonel promptly left him to rejoin the others.

He had already decided how he was going to handle this.

But for the moment, that matter was not on the top of his list of concerned.

At the end of the hall of cells, he found Hawkeye and Edward waiting for him on a bench in a small room by the exit that could have resembled a waiting room in the right light. The first lieutenant was speaking softly to the teen, who's hands had dug into his bangs, staring blankly past them and at the ground. As Roy approached them, he sat down besides Ed and glanced above his head to Hawkeye. She looked up at him for only a moment before both of their eyes turned back to the young alchemist.

"Hey." By the looks of it, Ed had calmed down considerably, despite how upset he clearly was.

He only exhaled slowly at first, then allowed several seconds to pass before mustering up a response. "That was stupid."

Despite the situation, Roy couldn't help but smile faintly at the crudeness of his word choice. However, it quickly fell as the kid continued.

"The only reason I wanted to come, was to prove that he couldn't screw with my head anymore. Now that Al is safe, I thought- I thought I could, but... I walked right into it. Again." He trailed off and then ended the thought altogether. Roy's mind was spinning with possible ways to give any amount of encouragement or reassurance, but no words seemed suitable. Instead, he put a hand on his shoulder, silently telling the kid everything that he needed to hear. Meanwhile, Hawkeye remained on his other side as a quiet but comforting presence.

Ed waited a moment, then slowly rose his head to meet the colonel's concerned gaze with a solemn frown in place that easily reflected every single sorrow that persisted to plague his mind, even after everything he had already endured.

"What's going to happen to Riece now?"

"I don't know," he replied, stiffing a sigh as he did so. Though he had come to some sort of decision only a minute ago, there was still much that was impossible to predict. All he knew was the fashion in which he wanted to handle the issue. This, however, was not something he wanted the kid to know just yet- not like this. "But I swear to you that he will be dealt with. Soon, you won't have to worry about him again."  _One way or another._

Edward shifted his gaze down to the floor again and lightly gripped the edge of the bench. He said nothing else on the matter, leaving Roy's last statement to float in the air.

Distracted by future plans, he was caught off guard when Ed shifted his weight until he was leaning into the colonel's side. He looked down at the kid only to see the same, saddened stare pointed down at the floor. But the message was clear: whether he expected it to be possible or not, he was trusting Roy to fulfill his promise even as the prospect of failure filled him with dread.

Though he would admit it to very few, Ed was scared of continuing this ongoing war for the rest of his life. He was terrified of never breaking free of the chains that Riece had managed to imprison him in.

Even if he wanted to act strong and pretend that it no longer fazed him, he freely allowed himself to portray the truth to those he trusted. And for that, Roy tacitly thanked him as he shifted his arm to wrap around the kid's shoulders and inwardly promised once again that Edward would not be let down.

Hawkeye leaned back against the wall so that the subtle shuffle of fabric would be a silent reminder to Ed that she was also there for him, ready to support both him and his brother through the upcoming trials if they should need it; just as the rest of the team undoubtedly was as well.

Roy looked over his head again to the lieutenant and was graced with a rare sight; she smiled. It was probably the first obvious smile he had seen on her ever stoic face in a long time, and it was the last encouragement that he needed.

As he looked down at the kid besides him again, he was certain: once the Elrics returned to the dorms for the night, Roy would call the rest of his staff for a meeting and they would map out a plan to have Riece dealt with once and for all.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at last: the final chapter of Chained. Thank you all for reading and enjoying up to this point. I have much more planned after this, so I hope you decide to stick around. :)

Though it was not yet very late in the day, winter demanded that night should fall sooner than it would have any other time of the year. The sun was setting on the horizon, sending glistening rays of orange light through the clouds to bounce off of buildings and give the blanket of snow a glimmering sheen.

However, the sight was lost on Edward, who was sitting away from the window with his back pressed against the wall of his dorm and with the blinds closed. Only a small number of thin lines of sunlight managed to creep through and distort on the furniture that was placed against the opposing wall.

Most people would have at least glanced outside to take in the view for a moment, but Ed was currently doing all he could to block out the ever moving, ever changing world around him. Just for a moment, he wanted to enjoy the feeble sensation that he couldn't quite call peace while it lasted. Because as he stared at the other wall with his arms folded, events were taking place that he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge. Not yet.

Markus Riece was currently undergoing his sentencing to see what his punishment for kidnapping Alphonse, blackmailing Edward, and allegedly killing Tresler would be. The anticipation of the many possible outcomes would surely eat Ed alive if he chose to listen to the live radio feed or, god forbid, actually attend the event. Mustang had given him the option, but he shot the idea down immediately.

Even if it was to watch him get sentenced to a few well-deserved lifetimes in prison, or maybe something even worse, he absolutely did not want to hear or see that man ever again. Perhaps it was cowardly. Perhaps it made him pathetic and weak, but no amount of possible self gratification was worth it. There was nothing to gain by facing him again, because the last encounter would only repeat itself.

Edward did not need to be reminded that someone was killed because of his choices, or that Al might have thought more about it than what he let on, or that the entire nation was going to consider him innocent when in fact, he was far from it. Riece would only continue to throw these facts back in his face and there was nothing the kid could do to make him stop, except avoid him.

He  _hated_ it.

He hated that after a month of struggling, the only solution now was to look away and allow others with actual power to deal with the deranged man.

With a huff, he dropped his forehead onto his folded arms, shifting his weight slightly. Simply looking at the familiar room took his mind on a trail that went straight back to the recent events and Riece. Him sitting in that dorm was a direct result of his most recent meeting with the man.

He and Al had returned to the closest place to home since Mustang's admission into the hospital, seeing as it wouldn't make any sense for him to continue staying at the colonel's house at that point. Ed knew from the beginning that this would happen and didn't bother trying to fight it.

Even though part of him honestly wanted to go back.

Mustang managed to worm his way out of the doctor's grip only a few days ago, but again, there was no explanation he could give to go back. It was a matter that did not need discussing, and so it wasn't. Besides, he and Alphonse needed to continue their nomadic lifestyle in search for the Philosopher's Stone once this was all behind them. Perhaps the part of him that wanted to call that comfortable townhouse home was nothing more than an irrational desire that would hopefully pass in time.

While it wasn't in his character to assume such things, something told Edward that the front doors of Mustang's house would still be open for him if something ever were to happen again.

That alone was enough to appease him.

Pulling Ed from his thoughts, the door was opened and the clanking of Al's armor followed him inside the dorm. When the greeting that he expected never came, Edward began to feel increasingly more nervous as he rose his gaze up to his brother.

Alphonse lingered just in front of the door frame for a moment longer before taking another step closer and closing it behind him. His anxiety and trepidation was clearly radiating off of him in droves, doing no favors for Ed's own state of mind.

"It's over," Al finally stated when Edward refused to speak first, referring to the radio coverage of the sentencing.

The blond stared at him, frozen stiff with his breath held, fearing the worst.

"They said he'll be locked up for... for only five years."

In a single moment, he felt the blood drain from his face and he was certain his heart skipped a beat, before kicking into overdrive, pounding so quickly that he was sure it would burst.

"H- how is that possible?" he whispered under his breath, unsure if his brother had even heard him. "Only five years. That doesn't make any sense..."

As he stayed frozen in space, he wanted to break something and yell and scream at the world for being so unfair- so unjust. It didn't make sense!

It wasn't right.

But he couldn't move, couldn't breath, he could barely think.

Al's helmet lowered to stare absently at the ground. He was just as confused and disappointed as Edward was- just as unable to express the absurdity of this.

Even when all he wanted to do was lay down and vanish from the rest of the word, the blond slowly rose to his feet. His stomach lurched, further convincing him to go back down before he got sick, but pure stubbornness kept him up.

Stubbornness, and a dark, furious rage that was currently too buried by shock to be of any use to him just yet.

"... I need to talk to Mustang."

* * *

_Fascinating._

It was all so terribly fascinating. Like reading a novel, the recent events fit together perfectly, bringing him to this moment in time, minutes away from crossing into a brand new chapter.

No- a mere chapter was not good enough to properly describe the tangent his life was about to take. This was the beginning of a new book; an epic poem, perhaps. He could barely contain his excitement as he sat in the middle of that drab holding cell.

Markus Riece wished he could record all that was happening around him. Despite being intellectually superior to the common folk who surrounded him on a day-to-day basis, his memory was admittedly not the best. He would never forget what transpired in these past few days, but it was not enough to simply know the obvious, chronological facts.

The desire to write down every emotion and thought constantly drove him. He yearned to capture the very feeling in the air so he could place himself exactly where he currently was even in the distant future, long after his imperfect human memory had failed him and the overlooked details were forgotten to time.

But for now, there was no helping it; he would just have to settle for committing it all to memory,

It was a shame, really. Markus certainly hoped he would be able to recall the full scale of the accomplishment he felt when the  _mighty_  Colonel Mustang sauntered into his little cell at Central Command for the second time that night to agree to his plan. The sheer reluctance on the man's face was surprisingly satisfying, to say the least.

He held all the cards once again and enjoyed every moment of it.

Before working out the details, he made it perfectly clear to the colonel that if he failed to follow through with his side of the deal or if he was double crossed in any way, then Markus would waste no time in telling the entire world that the little Fullmetal Alchemist was a murderer.

That should be a good motivator.

Right on time, the door to his secluded room was opened and a man dressed in the black uniform of the military police stepped in with his head lowered, hiding the majority of his face from view with the rim of his hat. With him, came the not-so-subtle scent of cigarette smoke.

Unlike the dingy accommodations he was given at Central's HQ, he was temporarily placed in a bland room, surrounded by four white walls and a metal door to wait to be placed in a permanent cell after arriving at the prison. Little did the guards here know that he had no plans on waiting for that.

The man who stepped in and shut the door behind him was most likely one of Mustang's men, considering the discrete black bag that he dropped by Markus' feet.

"Put this on over your clothes," the man explained, looking up to meet his gaze.

Oh yes, this was definitely one of Mustang's men, Markus decided as he was met with an icy blue stare that was burning with a mute hatred. Whoever this was, he was trusted enough to know the details of their little predicament and was powerless to do anything besides guide his enemy to freedom.

Simply fascinating.

Inside the black bag was a military uniform, identical to the one his visitor wore and even the boots and hat to go along with it. He wasted no time in pulling the clothing out and slipping them on over the thin gray prison garb, that would easily go unnoticed underneath.

"I don't know how much the colonel has told you," the man began, "but the leader of the police was recently replaced, so things are a little disorganized right now. You shouldn't stick out too much since there are a lot of new faces around here. Just don't look suspicious."

Markus nodded with an amused grin that he just couldn't keep at bay as he finished buttoning the jacket and put the hat on. With a frown, the blond man looked him over, then turned to exit the holding cell. As soon as the two were out in the hall, they began walking down one direction as another soldier was walking towards them.

Just as they were about to pass, the blond man stopped the newcomer and pointed to the door that they just exited from.

"Let that guy stew in there for a while longer. He pissed me off."

With a chuckle, the third man replied with a laugh and said "serves him right," before continuing on, passing the holding cell without another comment.

The remainder of the journey through the prison was relatively uneventful. They were not stopped and all of those who passed by were greeted with a smile from Markus and a nod from his guide. No one ever suspected a thing.

It wasn't before long they walked through the front gate of the prison, looking out at the snow-covered streets of Central. The sun had fallen hours ago and and all have retreated to the warmth and safety of their homes, leaving none to watch as Riece stepped out into freedom.

The man besides him pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it within seconds of entering the cold air of outside. "Stay off the main roads for now. They'll notice you're gone within minutes. If you go between those buildings there," he said as he pointed straight ahead, "you'll find a stash of money at the end of the alley which will be enough for a cheap car or a few train rides or a hotel or whatever the hell you want to do."

"Thank you very much," Markus replied amiable, primarily at the expense of the man who clearly did not want to be helping him.

The blond only stared at him through the shadows of his hat with his features highlighted by the faint glow of his burning cigarette.

"Just get out of here and don't come back."

"With pleasure."

Humans were always so eager to believe what they were told, especially when it was what they wanted to hear. It was common knowledge that the world was filled with liars, and yet people always seemed surprised when he proved himself to be one of them.

Mustang was a fool to believe that Markus was simply going to drop this as soon as he was out of the military's grasp. That man still has not suffered enough for his liking. In the past, he acted impulsively by having Tresler killed so soon. It would have been so much more satisfying to strip him of everything he cared about; his reputation, his business, his son, his wife- but that's not to say he regretted his actions. Having Edward kill him came with it's own gratification that he would not trade away easily.

Although on second thought, the kid said he wasn't the one who shot the bullet that killed him... Riece could only guess what happened that night, but it didn't matter, since the guilt stayed with him all the same.

Perhaps it was for the best; because of how things played out, he learned that Colonel Mustang had many more weaknesses than he let on. Markus knew from the beginning that targeting his youngest subordinate would be effective, but he was delighted to find out that there was much more to it than he thought.

He was too protective of the Elrics for his own good. Soon, Markus would make use of that. He will tear them all apart and enjoy every moment of it. Not just because of the loss of his daughter, but because it was just so  _entertaining._

But in the end, they all brought this upon themselves.

On that pleasant note, Markus bid his escort farewell and turned his back to the prison.

But as he walked towards the alley, he failed to notice the vengeful pair of black eyes that were watching him from within the shadows.

* * *

"Havoc," Roy started as he approached the Lieutenant by the gates of the prison. "If they don't figure it out for themselves first, alert the warden that Markus Riece had somehow escaped in ten minutes."

"Sure," the blond agreed, then exhaled slowly. The smoke caught the yellow light of the nearby streetlamps, then disappeared into the winter air. He looked down at the black uniform that they managed to find in storage. "I'm gonna change first."

The colonel nodded as he kept his sharp gaze focused only on the figure in the distance, who was becoming smaller by the second. In preparation for the search for the escapee began, Hawkeye was already in position to ensure that the orders are to find him  _dead or alive_ and  _by any means necessary._

Because of his performance at the sentencing earlier that day, it was very possible that they would underestimate what could happen if this madman was out on the lose, but that was to keep security from being too tight. Regardless, he trusted Hawkeye to follow through.

Without another word, Roy began walking forward, each step crunching through the snow in the dead of night. Despite the risks he was taking, he was sure that everything would go as planned. There was no need to rush.

Once he crossed the road and approached the alley, he reached into his pockets and tugged on his ignition gloves. As soon as he stepped into the shadows of the narrow alley, he was certain that no eyes were on him.

No witnesses.

He knew he shouldn't be looking forward to this but the vast majority of him simply couldn't help it. When Edward first told him of what Riece was doing, he immediately hated the man but had no qualms with simply locking him away.

That is until he continued to push, continued to probe, continued to pull at Roy's tolerance until he snapped. Every time Ed told him something new about what the man had done or when the colonel was able to witness his actions for himself, he became more and more convinced that he deserved worse than prison.

But the final straw was when they personally went to Riece's cell a few days ago. The way he managed to chop down the blond's defenses simply with well-timed words and the knowledge of how to manipulate and poison the mind. Despite his efforts, Ed seemed incapable of tuning it out or resisting his attempts to mess with his head. Roy liked to believe that he would be able to one day, but he refused to wait to find out. Riece was a threat as long as he was alive. The very fact that he was out there somewhere would strip the Elrics of the peace of mind they deserved.

He was yet to decide how Ed or Al would respond to what he was planning, but even that would not be enough to change his mind.

Within the small passages of the alleyways, Roy turned a corner, following the only path that was available. In the dim, fading moonlight that cracked through the growing clouds, he could make out fresh shoe prints in the powdery coating of snow.

While he was admittedly sickly eager to find Riece and trap him like the rat he was, no sign of a smile graced his face as he was motivated by pure loathing. His skilled regarding keeping himself composed were of great use over the past few days especially as the psychopath continued to test his thinning patience.

At last, he turned another corner and was greeted by a dead end. Further ahead was a figure searching for a promised stash of money that never existed.

Wordlessly, Roy closed in. The only sounds to be heard were Riece's scavenging and the crunch of the ice beneath the colonel's boots. Once heard, the other man looked up at him with a jump, clearly not expecting to have any visitors. He straightened up from the trashcan that he was in the process of moving and slapped on a sloppy and ill-prepared mask of fake confidence.

"Ah, Mustang! What- are you doing here?" he asked slowly, eyes scanning the area surely in search for an escape route.

Roy took his sweet time deciding how to reply, seeing as Riece wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. "Did you honestly think I'd actually fall for your pathetic little lies?" he asked coldly.

The older man opened his mouth, the thought twice. After a beat of hesitation, he forced a smile onto his expression and held his hands out in a friendly manner. "I see you're upset about that, but we can work something out."

"I don't think so," Roy replied without hesitation, pressing his middle finger and thumb together, creating small, eager sparks by his side.

Perhaps without realizing, Riece took a defensive step away until his back pressed up against the brick wall, his smile faltering. "So you're just going to kill me; is that it? You're going to repeat the crime that Edward has been burdened with all this time? Have you learned nothing?"

At that, Roy could barely refrain from audibly laughing. "Crime? There's no crime in a military officer simply defending himself from an escaped criminal. Especially if I felt threatened; and if this criminal were to die in my attempts to defend myself, then-" he shrugged. "- you won't be missed."

Riece started as if he had been physically struck; the smile had completely fallen from his face. "And what about Edward? How do you think he'll respond to this? Are you going to lie to him, just as I did? Or will you look him in the eyes and tell him that you're a murderer!?"

If the man had regained any confidence because of his argument, it was quickly dashed when Roy chuckled darkly in response.

"Have you forgotten who I am? It's no secret that the  _Hero of Ishval_ is a murderer; my hands are already soaked in blood."

"But-"

"Don't concern yourself with how Ed will react."

In the past, Riece had said that his actions against the colonel were not for pretty revenge. Instead, he claimed he was simply doing somewhat that needed to be done. A favor for the rest of the world, so to speak. In a way, Roy now understood what he meant by that.

His biggest motivation was the fact that Riece's continued existence brought harm onto those he cared about and ending his life was necessary to fix that. The difference, however, was that Roy was not afraid to admit that part of it was indeed for revenge.

When Roy snapped his fingers and sent explosive flames towards the man's torso, which he just narrowly managed to avoid, it was with the intent to benefit others.

But when Riece tried to claim that Ed wouldn't forgive him for killing someone on his behalf, the burst of fire that scorched his mouth and burned his tongue was for revenge.

As his screams sliced through the silence, the man collapsed onto his knees and shoveled snow into his mouth in a desperate attempt to smother the flames that licked and blistered his skin. Once they went out, he remained where he was, a crippled groan slipping through each heavy breath and he lacked the strength to return to his feet.

The buildings that surrounded them were all businesses that have closed for the night. There was no one to hear his pained howls besides possibly the military police once they begin their search, but even then, it'll be far too late.

"I considered just cutting out your tongue so you could never say any more manipulative lies, but even while mute, you would still find ways to ruin lives, wouldn't you?" Roy mused as he took a few steps closer through.

Grinding his teeth, Riece glared at the man and opened his quivering lips to speak. "You-" he started, but his slurred, whispered tone was abruptly cut off by his own agonizing screams.

Flames seemed to materialize around him, latching themselves onto his clothing and spreading wildly. The scent of burning fabric and skin filled the air as he reeled to the side and collapsed into the snow, twisting and turning sporadically in the snow.

By some miracle, he managed to put out the fire and remained face down, body trembling as his clothes continued to smolder. Roy took that moment to walk over to him and place a boot on his shoulder, then using it to roughly roll him onto his back.

He looked down at Riece's hateful gaze that shined with the refusal to be defeated.

"Do you regret it yet?"

His brown eyes narrowed and he took several breaths before he could muster up a terse response. "... What?" he asked in a slur and he flinched from the jolt that came with using his burned mouth to speak.

"It wouldn't have come to this if you only chose to target me. But you sealed your fate the moment you chose to include Ed and Al. So I want to know, Markus Riece; as you are moments away from death, do you regret getting them involved."

The downed man stared up at him silently for a long moment, the gears in his mind shifting as he seriously considered the question. Then finally, the corners of his lips twitched to hint at the smile he was unable to form.

"No." Suddenly, the hint of a smile widened and his eyes intensified, ignoring the searing pain that undoubtedly shot through him. "Hell, I'd do it all again given the chance. Except next time, I'd make sure to scar you just as badly as those kids," he forced out, followed by a mangled, animistic laugh.

"Then there was no saving you."

His twisted, sick laughter distorted as there was another snap and the alley was lit up by bright flames that attacked and ate away at him. But through the screams that took on a life of their own and echoed down the alley against his control, his laughter remained, bursting in and out of his voice between each ragged, dying breath.

Roy watched in disgust for several long seconds as his confidence that he was doing the right thing steadily grew.

This man- no, he wasn't even human.

This monster needed to be put down.

With a calm exhale, the alchemist rose his right hand once again as Riece writhed on the ground, battling flames as his bloodcurdling, screaming laughter overlapped with the sirens that he could now hear blaring in the distance.

He snapped again, completing engulfing his figure in fire and bringing a quick end to his suffering. The screams grew louder, then faded until only the cracking of what was left over remained.

Riece's charred, blackened body laid motionless against the wall, ravaged by an undying blaze. The snow nearby had melted and a few rogue flames remained after catching onto nearby garbage. The deadly silence of a winter's night returned as Roy's ears seemed to ring from the sudden absence of sound.

His expression was natural as he looked down at the demented figure- lifeless limbs spread out and jaw wide open, as if a silent scream was still echoing. His mind was brought back to the days of the Ishvalan Massacre when the scent of burning flesh finally reached him, but still, he felt no remorse as he did back then.

He was forced to kill the innocent and the desperate in the past, but this time he disposed of a vile creature who brought only suffering to others. He didn't quite feel happy about his success, however.

If Roy were to give what he felt a name, then perhaps it would be peace.

He gave the corpse one last look, before turning away from it and returning back the way he came. It was almost anticlimactic for such a nuisance to be snuffed out in only a few seconds, but he knew better than anyone that that was all it took.

* * *

Much later that night, Roy shuffled through the front door of his home and shut it behind him, shuddering from the cold that had song since sunken into his bones.

After shrugging off his greatcoat and hanging it haphazardly on the coat rack, he had his heavy eyes set on the staircase. But before he reached it, he somehow toppled to the side and collapsed onto his couch before he quite knew what was happening.

Not that he was complaining, anyway. He didn't even have it in him to care that he was still in uniform.

After dealing with the miserable insect known as Markus Riece, he spent the greater part of the night speaking to the military police about how he conveniently happened to be in the area when their newest prisoner escaped and just so happened to come across him in a dark, secluded alleyway. After explaining how he heroically went head-to-head against the maniac who he was  _certain_  was armed, Roy had to inform them with great regret that he had no choice but to use lethal force.

And just as he had said earlier that night, no one cared.

While the members of the police did not hear every heinous thing that Riece had done, they heard enough to know that his was not a great loss. It would almost be sad if it wasn't so well deserved.

Because no one was willing to dig too deeply into what  _really_ happened, Roy was able to return home for the night before it became too late. And thank god for that; he couldn't quite express how eager he was to finally get some rest-

The colonel's thoughts were cut off and his eyes snapped open when a first rasped against his front door. Stubbornly, he rolled onto his side and shut his eyes, hoping whoever it was would simple go away. But as the knocking continued to persist, he forced himself up with a large sigh and sluggishly approached the door.

He pried the door open and squint his eyes as the frosty air greeted him, but felt more alertness take over at the sight of the Elric brothers. The first thought to make it's way through his tired brain was  _they knew_. But how? That shouldn't have been even remotely possible.

Edward immediately took another step forward with his fists clenched. "What happened at-"

"I'm sorry, Colonel," Alphonse cut over him quickly. "I tried to tell him that we should wait until morning, but-"

The older brother jumped in again. "Why only five years!?"

Roy stared with his mouth gaping slightly, slowly realizing what he was talking about.

"Why isn't it five lifetimes instead? You were there, weren't you? So why didn't you-"

"Riece is dead."

As soon as his words registered in their minds, both kids froze, staring at him, shared a glance with each other, then back onto the colonel. Ed opened his mouth to speak, but when no words came out after several seconds, Roy stepped out of the way of the door and gestured inside for them to come in.

The Elrics shuffled inside and situated themselves on one of the two sofas, watching with a quiet, confused intensity as Roy faced them on the other couch with his hands folded on his knees.

He hadn't yet figured out how he was going to explain this, as he expected to have more than only a few measly hours after the fact to figure it out.

"He escaped from the prison just after arriving and was found dead a few blocks away," he explained calmly, keeping a careful eye on the two boys as they listened.

"What? How- how did that..." Alphonse trailed off, too stricken by shock to finish his question. Next to him, Ed looked equally as stunned.

Roy did not reply at first as he pursed his lip in silent contemplation. But it was far too late now to second guess himself and his actions. There was no other option but to lay his cards on the table and tell them the full truth.

"He was burned to death."

"You mean..." Edward began slowly, staring wide-eyed at the colonel as his brother stiffened. "You killed him?"

While Roy prided himself in being able to read other people very well, he honestly couldn't figure out what the blond was thinking behind those golden eyes. But on second thought, perhaps it was Ed who couldn't figure out his feelings either.

He had no other choice but to nod.

" _Why?_ " Ed suddenly asked. "You- you didn't have to do that. I-"

"You know as well as I do that this wouldn't truly be behind you until he was dead. I did it so both of you could look to the future without fear."

"But I..." The crisp, uncertain silence stretched for well over a minute. "I don't know if I want to thank you for... for killing, but-"

"Don't." Ed paused and looked up at him. "I don't want to hear you thank me for this. I simply did what I thought was necessary. Nothing more."

Again, silence. As Roy looked at the two brothers sitting side by side, both lost in their own individual yet corresponding thoughts, he found himself again unsure what to make of it.

"I can't believe it's finally over," Alphonse said at least, looking down at the coffee table that separated them.

Ed nodded once as he stared downwards. It was a short, barely noticeable gesture that was almost overlooked. With a sigh, he rose his gaze back onto the colonel with something new visible in his eyes. Whatever it is, it somehow managed to amaze him.

Perhaps it wasn't the confidence and certainty that was suddenly present that was amazing, but rather the complete lack of fear. It was the very same thing- or rather, the absence of something- that Roy had been striving to see again.

"Thank you."

"Ed-"

"No, it's not that," he interjected before he could give off the wrong idea. "Just- thank you for caring."

It was in that moment that Roy realized just how much the kid had grown over the course of a single month. He was too wrapped up in the spiraling events to notice before, but as proof stared back at him, he was sure of it.

Even a few days ago when he was haunted by the fear of Riece returning, he still had something that wasn't there several weeks ago. Perhaps he couldn't quite put a name to it just yet, but he didn't particularly feel the need to.

Without putting much thought into it, Roy rose to his feet and stepped around the table, then sat on the edge to face the two brothers at a closer distance.

"Any time." He hoped they understood that he honestly meant it. And again without thought, he reached forward and endearingly ruffled Ed's hair. Perhaps it was how tired he was that made him act, but he honestly didn't care.

But to his surprise, the blond didn't respond by giving him a nonplussed expression as he usually did, but instead, he actually  _smiled_ under the contact, perhaps without realizing _._

However, Roy wasn't the only one to notice this.

"Gee, Brother, you've really opened up, haven't you," Alphonse chimed in with a soft chuckle.

As if a switch had been flipped, the older brother's face immediately turned beet red as the colonel withdrew his hand to use it to help hold himself up.

"No I haven't," he denied stubbornly, convincing absolutely no one.

"Oh yes you have," Alphonse persisted jovially. "In fact, since the hospital, you've treated colonel Mustang kind of like a-"

"Shut up!"

The two laughed as Edward frowned with embarrassment, looking as if he would halfheartedly rather be anywhere else but there. But of course, all three of them knew it was the complete opposite.

"This isn't fair," the blond pouted. "We were just talking about Riece, and now you two are cracking jokes. What the hell," he sighed.

Roy couldn't keep the wry smile from pulling at his lips. "Perhaps it is a bit odd. But... despite what has happened, I already feel lighter, I suppose. I realize this must be difficult for you two, but I hope you'll feel the same."

Ed folded his arms and leaned back in the couch, giving little away as Alphonse looked down at nothing. "I- I think I do," the younger brother said quietly. "I feel like it's wrong to celebrate someone's death, even if it's  _him_ , but..." he rolled his spiked shoulders in a shrug. " I don't know."

"No, I know what you mean, Al," Ed added almost reluctantly, giving the suit of armor a sideways glance. "But this is for the best, isn't it? Even if it feels weird. I can't imagine any other alternative."

Roy understood their hesitation, but could do nothing to help. These two kids had drilled it into their heads that killing was wrong. Even if it freed them from a potential lifetime of fear, it would naturally feel unnatural for them to enjoy it. Somehow, Roy was glad to see this reaction from them. He knew they would come to terms with all that had happened, if they hadn't already, but the fact that it was immediate spoke volumes about their nature. It was only a matter of time.

Although, he supposed he could at least try to offer them some help.

"It's pretty late," he observed suddenly, drawing the brother's attention away from their darker thoughts and onto him.

"Oh yeah," Ed mumbled and rose to his feet, stepping away from the couches. "I guess we should get out of your hair."

"Hold on a moment" Roy began just as Al was getting up to follow. "It's too late for you two to be walking around the streets. How about you spend the night? For old times' sake."

The blond froze with his back facing the colonel. After a moment, he slowly turned to look at him, expression calm besides a trace of surprise. Just when he expected the kid to resort to his usual unnecessary stubbornness, a small smile graced his visage.

"Sure." As he was about to say something else, he gasped and his eyes widened and fell on his brother. "Al! You gotta see Mustang's library!"

"What? Library?" the younger brother asked, excitement slipping into his tone.

Almost as if searching for permission, the two kids both looked to Roy,.

He couldn't stop the smile from appearing even if he wanted to try as he looked down at their equal child-like eagerness.

"Go ahead," he said with a nod and they immediately sprinted off towards his study room.

As he watched them go, he realized that it was probably the single greatest sight he had seen in a long time. Those boys were amazing; even after going through so much hardship, they were still able to bounce back and find joy in the things that they loved. Even after being forced to grow up, they were still able to be children, even it was only once in a blue moon.

Ultimately, he decided to follow to wish them a good night before he collapsed from exhaustion, reveling at just how lucky he was to have them both in his life.


End file.
